


Can't Start A Fire Without A Spark

by larrymylove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Banter, Board Games, Celebrities, Celebrity Louis, Coffee, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Getting to Know Each Other, Kissing, M/M, Movie Night, Paparazzi, Paparazzi Harry, Pining, Starbucks, pap walks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrymylove/pseuds/larrymylove
Summary: Louis Tomlinson is the pop sensation with his first new single out since taking a personal hiatus from the spotlight. Harry is a paparazzi hired to photograph him during promo. Louis hates paparazzi with a passion, but there’s just something about the pretty young pap with wide green eyes and chocolate curls that Louis can’t shake from his head.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my goodness! This started out as a simple little idea written in the tags of a tumblr [post](http://nottooldforthisship.tumblr.com/post/158392733771/nottooldforthisship-i-need-an-au-where-louis-is) a few days ago and I never expected then that it'd turn into this. I am so incredibly happy with how everything all came together. I just am honestly so blown away. It was an absolute blast to write, and I hope it's as enjoyable for you all to read as it was for me to write. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and please don't forget to leave a comment and kudos and to like/reblog the tumblr post for this fic. Thank you!!

Louis awoke to the sound of his phone blaring by his head. He reached an arm up and slapped around at the pillow behind his head to try to silence the incessant sound. It was still dark outside. This was unacceptable. Whoever was calling him clearly had a death wish. Louis glanced at the contact. _Liam_. Louis squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed ‘accept’ and held the phone up to his ear.

“You clearly don’t value your life, Loam.”

He could almost hear Liam’s eye roll, “Louis, you need to get up. You’re going out today.”

“Excuse me? I most certainly do not, and am not. It’s a Sunday morning, Leemo. Do you know what time I got in last night? My head feels like there’s a jackhammer going off inside of it and I am not leaving this bloody bed for anything except maybe, _maybe_ accepting delivery of something greasy and delicious.”

“Louis, you’ve got to go out today. Your song is doing fantastically babe, it really is. And I don’t need to tell you that. But you’ve been so distant. Your fans are starting to miss you.”

“Then I’ll post something on Instagram. I don’t need to be seen out and about.”

“Your fans are starting to miss you, and the GP haven’t even seen you in forever. Your song is going to be going to radio in two weeks, Louis. You need to get your face out there.”

Louis flung his arm over his eyes. He knew Liam was right, it was why he’d picked him to be his publicist. Liam was good, and he was smart as a tack when it came to business and PR. Louis knew how to write well, how to sing well, and how to love his fans well. But when it came to the business side of things, he needed a Liam. He wasn’t stupid about things, and he wouldn’t just make an idiot move. He was smart too, more than he gave himself credit for at times. But Liam was an anchor to him. Besides, it was nice having his best friend as his publicist, knowing that there was that ultimate trust and best interest at heart.

“What time and where?” Louis asked, already regretting giving in. Why he’d done shots last night was beyond him. 

“About nine at the Starbucks.”

“Original.”

“ _Louis_.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll be there. Nine sharp, okay?”

“Thank you. I’ve instructed for the photographers --”

“ _Paps_.”

Liam sighed again, “ _Photographers_ to be there about a quarter til to get everything set up.”

“Lovely.”

“And Louis?”

“Yes, Li?”

“Behave.”

Louis huffed, ending the phone call and tossing his phone to the foot of his mattress. He could behave. He most certainly could behave. It wasn’t like he was ever rude to the paparazzi, unless they gave him cause to be. He knew that he needed to be on his best behavior ever since that one pap had accused him of breaking his camera outside of the club last month. It hadn’t been Louis’ fault the pap had collided into him like that, but of course it was spun in the media to make Louis out to be the bad guy, despite Liam’s attempts at damage control. Louis grimaced at the pictures of his face with the word “ _volatile_ ” splashed over it all over the newsstands. There was no mention in any of the articles of course, of the pap having been antagonistic all night and having been the one to push into Louis thus dropping his camera to the cement. Louis hated the paps. 

This was definitely not the way he’d wanted to spend his morning, but he knew Liam was right and that he just needed to grin and bear it and get it done with. He begrudgingly got out of bed and flipped through the hangers in his closet before settling on a black Adidas hoodie, black jeggings, and his bright green Adidas sneakers. He figured getting some promo kickback wouldn’t hurt. After dressing and running his fingers through his fringe, Louis decided it was all the effort the paps were going to get from him. He called for his driver, kissed Clifford on the head goodbye, and was out the door still much to his begrudging. At least it was coffee, he told himself. Maybe the coffee would help with the hangover. Though, coffee delivered sounded even better.

Louis tumbled into the backseat of the black town car after shaking hands with the driver holding the door open. They made their way down the winding streets as Louis pressed his fingertips into his temples, cursing alcohol and making an empty vow to never drink again. The black town car pulled up outside the Starbucks and Louis winced. Already there was a line of people swarming outside to see him and touch him and grab at him. He loved his fans, he truly did. But there was a difference between his fans and the people who were waiting for him there. Off to the side of the parking lot, he saw the white vans with the men with cameras gearing up and checking over their equipment. Louis took a deep breath. He tried to tell himself it’d be okay, that he just needed to get his coffee and go. But there was always the sickening, sinking feeling that came with being treated like a zoo animal. 

“Be back in a bit,” Louis said to the driver before hopping out of the car. Louis headed towards the Starbucks entrance, taking his time as the bright lights flashed around him. He worked hard to school his face into a relaxed, easy going expression. He didn’t clench his teeth, he didn’t dig his nails into his palms. Everything was going well. Liam honestly should give him a gold star for this. Or a crown. Louis liked the idea of a crown.

He went into the Starbucks without a problem, and ordered his usual - one venti vanilla latte. After paying and taking a few pictures with the “fans” Louis headed back towards the main doors. He was rounding the corner back towards the town car when he collided with a body. His splashed right onto the person he’d run into.

“ _Oh_!” The person shouted, dropping the camera from his hands so that it dangled from the strap around his neck and grabbed the hem of his shirt to hold it out off his stomach. Louis instantly paled upon seeing the camera. He could see the headlines now - _Louis Tomlinson - Volatile - Burns Paparazzi With Boiling Coffee._

“Shit mate! I am so, so sorry!”

“What are you sorry for?” The paparazzi asked, “I’m the one that ran into you.”

“Oh, well, yeah but….”

“It’s fine, really. My fault,” the boy said, putting his shirt back against his stomach, “It’s fine. Luckily I’m wearing an undershirt so it’s not so bad.”

“You sure I didn’t burn you?” Louis looked up and nearly forgot how to breathe for a moment when he saw the boy standing in front of him. It wasn’t that Louis usually was so besotted by handsome boys, but this boy was different. He had the biggest, greenest eyes Louis had ever seen in his life that genuinely made him look more Disney Character than Human. He also had plush pink lips and chocolate curls tucked under a bright blue headscarf. Louis swore his knees went a little weak. Also, the boy was young. Too young to be holding a camera and doing this sort of job. Louis said as much.

The boy laughed, “I’m not that young. And it’s fine, I’ve already told you.”

“You sure though?” Louis asked, feeling even more guilty than he had before, even if this kid was a pap.

“I mean, I’m a little stickier than before, but other than that….” the boy dimpled. _Dimples!_ Louis hated his life. It was a cardinal sin to be a paparazzi and be pretty, Louis decided. Paparazzi were the lowest of the lowest scum of the earth. They belonged right up there with skinheads and people who kicked puppies, in Louis’ book. They also were typically old men with beer bellies gaudy jewelry who screamed at him to “look here! Look over here!” Louis hated paparazzi with a passion, and it was just his luck that he’d have a run in with one who was actually pretty. It just served to make Louis hate him even more.

“Well if you haven’t sustained hospital worthy burns and you aren’t going to sell these pictures to someone who will print that I attacked you with boiling coffee, I should be going….”

Louis moved to push past him, a bit downtrodden that the one good thing about the day - the coffee - had been ruined.  Ruined by none other than a pretty paparazzi with pretty green eyes and dimples and chocolate curls and a fucking headscarf. Louis shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and dug his fingernails into his palms. He was going to have words with Liam about this morning, that was for damn sure.

“You’ve spilled all your coffee,” the paparazzi pouted, and okay….that wasn’t allowed.

“I honestly don’t even care at this point, mate,” Louis felt his insides boil, “I just want to go home to be quite honest.”

“At least let me buy you another one.”

“That’s quite alright,” Louis said, his voice clipped and cold.

“I insist,” the boy’s eyes were even wider and brighter and he had a hopeful smile on his face as he said, “Venti vanilla latte, right?”

Louis eyes’ narrowed, zeroing in on those green orbs, “How do you know that?”

“Um…” the boy quickly closed his mouth into a thin line, a bashful blush creeping in on his cheeks peppering them a pretty pink.

“C’mon,” Louis sighed impatiently as he ran a hand through his fringe, “How do you know my coffee order?”

The boy’s blush deepened into an even rosier shade, “I saw it online.”

“Online,” Louis’ voice was flat.

“Um….yes. It was on….on one of those fan quiz sites? Louis Tomlinson’s favorite coffee order.”

If Louis’ blood wasn’t boiling before, it was now, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Were you creeping around on one of those stupid fan quiz sites? Seriously? It’s 2017, mate.”

“I know….I know it looks bad,” the boy was a mess of pink by now, all tumbling and tripping over his own tongue as he managed to squeak out the words, “But I was just….I wanted to know more about you. I like to know who I’m photographing and when I was told it’d be you….”

Louis’ nails dug in further as his eyes flashed to the boy, “Let’s get one thing clear here, you’re _never_ going to fucking know me, and you sure as hell aren’t going to know me through some stupid fan site quiz someone uploaded in like, 2012.”

Louis brushed past the boy and headed towards the town car. Once safely behind the tinted glass, he pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. He knew he’d been cold, but he had to be. Paparazzi were all the same. Pretty or not, they were all the same. They were all scum who’d sell their photos to the highest bidder, to the highest story. Louis was more than familiar with them, their vulgar shouting, their slurs they’d throw his way in hopes of getting a reaction. A reaction would sell big. Louis still could hear the slurs, even the comments about his mum, being hurled his way in hopes of a big price tag on his photos. 

Besides, who did that fucking kid he think he was? What right did he think he had to learn who Louis was? Especially through some stupid fansite quiz? Louis guarded himself very carefully. He had to. No one, not even his fans, knew everything there was to know about him, much less a pap. He had absolutely no right to go snooping around to ‘learn’ about him. Louis’ blood boiled again.

He fucking hated paparazzi. Pretty or not.

\--

Harry had put his equipment away in the backseat of his beat up Toyota and was driving back to his tiny flat feeling more and more like shit than he’d began that morning. He hadn’t meant any harm, truly. He knew he probably should have been more careful and aware of his surroundings, and his stomach was slightly burnt for it as punishment. He also knew he shouldn’t have said the thing about the coffee. Of course it had come across as invasive and creepy. No celebrity wanted a paparazzi stalking after them on the internet to learn about them. And that’s what Harry was, a paparazzi. It was a fact that he still was struggling to accept. He tried to tell himself that he was different, that he was doing this for reasons that separated him from the other lowlifes, but Louis would never know that. To Louis Tomlinson, Harry was just another pathetic pap wanting to sell him to the highest bidder. But Harry could never be that person. It just wasn’t in his nature.

As soon as he’d laid eyes on Louis, he had wanted to apologize to him for far more than just the coffee. He had had a bit of a crush on Louis Tomlinson since his first album had come out a few years ago. Harry was instantly besotted with Louis’ vocal range and his ability to make his voice so broken and vulnerable yet also so powerful and commanding. His lyrics were art in and of themselves, and Harry consistently found himself getting goosebumps whenever he listened to a Louis Tomlinson song, no matter how many times he’d heard it. Seeing Louis face to face today was something he’d only ever dreamed of, and the fact that it’d been such a disaster made him wish he could take everything back. 

He’d apologized for being in the way, apologized for the coffee, but really he was trying to apologize for himself - for his presence there, for the camera slung over his neck, for his _job_. He’d never wanted to meet Louis Tomlinson that way, and there was nothing he could do to change how it had gone down, no matter how hardly he wished he could. He supposed it was deserved though. Fate was punishing him for signing on with DeLuca Pictures, even if it was as a freelancer. Harry gripped the steering wheel as he pulled into the car port of his flat. He hadn’t even gotten a picture thanks to being the klutz that he was, and a part of Harry that made his bile stir thought, “I won’t even be getting paid for this.”

He grabbed his camera bags and headed up to the flat that he shared with his best friend. He unlocked the door and gently unloaded his bags by the door. He was too exhausted and frustrated to put them away in his room. He leaned with his back against the front door and scrubbed his hands down his face. Why was he even doing this? There were other things he could do, he knew. But nothing would pay as good as this, he knew that. And it was the one thing he could do that could both pay him well and utilize his skills. You can’t get photography practice in selling plasma, sperm, or sex. 

“Bad day at the office?” Niall chirped, heading into the living room as he tugged a white t-shirt over his head. His hair was still damp, and Harry kind of resented Niall’s easy, wake up and shower whenever pleased kind of schedule. 

“The worst,” Harry sighed, peeling himself off the door, “It was _Louis Tomlinson._ ”

“No way!” Niall tugged open the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice, “Bet that was….interesting for you.”

“I bumped him and made him spill his coffee,” Harry sunk down at the kitchen table, wishing he could just melt away into the chair.

“Jesus. Well, that’s not so bad. Could have been worse.”

“Then I offered to buy him a new coffee.”

“That’s sweet.”

“And then I admitted I know his coffee order from stalking him on fansites.”

Niall’s face fell, “That’s not so sweet. Fuck, H. I’m sorry, bub.”

“He already thinks I’m garbage for being a paparazzi, Niall. And now he thinks I’m a creepy stalker too. It was a nightmare. He cussed at me and left and this was definitely not how I had dreamed meeting Louis Tomlinson would ever go. I would rather I’d never have met him than have him think what he does of me now,” Harry put his head in his hands. 

He could feel Niall’s hand rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder blades, saying, “It’s not so bad, H. I mean, he’s Louis Tomlinson. He encounters lots of photographers all the time. I’m sure he’s not going to remember this morning or you in the long run. In fact,” Niall gave the skin right at Harry’s ribs a soft pinch, “I’ll bet he’s already forgotten all about it.”

\--

“It was a bloody _nightmare,_ Liam!” Louis flung himself down on Liam’s couch, “You should have seen the kid! He didn’t even look old enough to be out of school yet, and here he was with this camera bumping right into me!”

“Alright,” Liam set his phone down on the coffee table across from Louis and leveled him with a look, “So….do I need to do damage control, is that what you’re telling me? What did you say to him? Will this get out and put you in a bad light? I need to know what you did, Lou.”

“Nothing!” Louis snapped, eyes blazing towards Liam, “I did _nothing!_ I spilled my fucking coffee on him and apologized and he kept apologizing too which….don’t even get me started! Then he offered to buy me another coffee, Liam! A venti vanilla latte to be specific.”

Liam quirked a brow, “I’m failing to see the reason for the dramatics, Lou.”

Louis glared at him. He most certainly had every reason to be dramatic. This was a perfectly reasonable response, if you asked him. He was currently sprawled out on his back on Liam’s couch with an arm flung over his head and his blood still boiling in his veins. Perfectly normal, reasonable response.

“He knew my coffee order,” Louis explained, “And when I asked him _how_ , he told me he’d found it on some fansite thing. Are those even still around, Li? Why haven’t they been like, taken down. Fuck, I bet they say my favorite food is Pizza Hut Cookie Dough and my favorite brand is Abercrombie. For fuck’s sake!”

“Louis, breathe,” Liam instructed from his arm chair, “Why is this so upsetting?”

“Because he said he stalked those sites to learn about who he was photographing,” Louis peeled his arm off his head and flopped over on his side to face Liam, “As if he has any right as a paparazzi to know anything about who I am and what I like! He has no bloody right, Liam! Who does he think he is! This….this….bloody _child_ of all things!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Louis grabbed one of the throw pillows and tossed it at Liam’s head. It missed.

“Mature,” Liam blinked, unfazed, “Look, I know you’re relationship to the paparazzi is strained. It’s understandable given the things they’ve said to you and about you in the past. If this kid made you so uncomfortable, I can find out who he is and try to have him replaced with another photographer who can maybe be a bit more professional. But Louis, you know this is only a string I can ever really pull if something especially bad has happened. Like with the wanker who called you the f-slur a few months back. If this kid just is a bit of a cringe-fest, there’s really nothing I can do without a responsible explanation of proof of poor behavior on his part.”

Deep down, Louis knew Liam was right. There wasn’t much he could do unless the kid had crossed more than a few lines, and even then his hands were often tied. Louis rubbed at his temples, trying to calm himself down. He knew getting this worked up was only making the throbbing in his head even worse. The kid had been annoying, and showed typical stalker-fan behaviors, but other than that, he hadn’t done anything cruel that would give Liam cause to contact his employer. Louis sighed. 

“He didn’t do anything to cross a line,” he said reluctantly.

“Well that’s good. He might have just been frazzled because he bumped you and he got hot coffee splattered all over him. He probably didn’t even intend to come across that way, especially if he is as young as you say. Besides, he apologized to you. That’s something. When was the last time a pap apologized to you?”

Louis bit down on the inside of his cheek, not wanting to think about that. He hated it when Liam had a point. “That’s beside the point,” Louis huffed, sitting up and folding his arms over his chest, “A pap that shows some level of human decency is still a pap, Lima. And paps can choke as far as I’m concerned. Even if they’ve got curls and dimples and princess eyes.”

“The fuck are princess eyes?”

Louis threw the other throw pillow, and maybe a cushion too.

He spent the next few days trying to get the image of the young paparazzi out of his mind, trying to picture him as looking like all the others with the beer bellies and gaudy jewelry and vulgar language. It didn’t work, however, and Louis found himself unfortunately alone in his bed one night with the image of curls and dimples and big green eyes that were too big to be normal, playing over and over again in his head. The thing was, he was just so pretty. Louis had never seen a boy so pretty in his entire life. He didn’t even look real. His ivory skin with a few freckles peppered here and there, those big green eyes so wide with wonder, the plus cherry-pink lip that he worried between two overly-big front teeth. It wasn’t okay for someone to be that attractive. It wasn’t okay for someone to be that attractive and be a fucking pap. Louis bit his own bottom lip as he thought of the dimples and felt his hand wander down to his groin under the covers of his bed. He stroked himself before he realized what he was doing and yanked his hand away from his disappointed cock.

“Stop it,” Louis hissed at either himself or the cock throbbing in disappointment between his legs, “You’re not going to have a fucking wank over a bloody _pap_ of all people. Pull yourself together, Lou!”

He pinched at his inner thigh to make his erection give up. “Besides,” Louis said to the darkness of his bedroom, “Is the kid even fucking legal? You’re being a creep.”

Louis flung over the covers and forced himself into a cold shower. He wasn’t not going to be a creep. Paps were creeps. He was not going to be on that level. After a cold shower, Louis wrapped himself up in his softest pajamas and headed back to his bed. He had just about erased all thoughts of the pretty pap from his mind, just about to drift off to a peaceful sleep.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand beside him, a text message from Liam.

“Pap shoot tomorrow at Tesco. Management wants you to appear down to earth. Get some groceries, get in, get out. Two p.m. Get some rest. If your arse isn’t up by noon, I’m coming over there.”

Louis flung his arm over his head and groaned. 

Under his arm, Louis mumbled, “The universe hates me.”

\--

“The universe hates me,” Harry pressed his forehead into the kitchen table as Niall set a plate of eggs down in front of his head.

“What’s wrong, pet?”

“Johnston called me early this morning. There’s a shoot scheduled for Louis Tomlinson again today at two at Tesco. He wants me to go since it fits with the scheduling I told him. Fuck, Niall. I can’t go there. I can’t see him again. _I just can’t._ ”

Harry felt sick, and shoved the plate of scrambled eggs away from him. It just wasn’t fair. He’d spent the last few days trying to get all thoughts of Louis Tomlinson out of his head, quite unsuccessfully, but that was beside the point. Now he was to be sent to photograph him again, and he could barely process the thought without feeling as though he was going to puke up last night’s dinner.

“Could you tell him you had something come up today? Family emergency?”

“I can’t always have a family emergency, Niall. I just have to face it, as long as I’m doing this there’s always going to be a chance I get called to Louis Tomlinson of all people. I’d love to call in, I really would. But I can’t, Niall. I may hate what I do,” Harry lifted his head from the table and rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks, “but I do have to be professional. I might have fucked up the last time, but I can at least be professional this time. Maybe this can be like a do-over, right?”

Niall nodded, sitting down in the chair across from Harry, sprinkling some pepper onto his eggs, “Very true. Just be your charming self, H. It’ll all be okay, I’m sure. You have this charm about you, pet. It makes it very hard to not like you, you know. Just use that, and I’m sure whatever awkwardness took place the last time will all be forgiven and forgotten.”

Harry smiled at Niall, reaching out for his eggs again, “I hope your right, Ni.”

Niall just grinned, “Always am!”

Harry found himself standing at his full-length mirror as he adjusted his Pink Floyd t-shirt down over his hips. He turned to the side, totally not looking at his arse in the tight black jeans with the rips in the knees he’d chosen for the day. It wasn’t that he really cared how he looked, but he did want to make a better impression than the last one. He scratched the back of his calf with the toe of his worn boot and decided he didn’t look too shabby. Besides, his concern with his appearance was merely his attempt at a good impression. A good, professional impression. Harry could be professional. He most certainly could, and he was going to prove that to Louis Tomlinson today.

He grabbed his camera equipment and headed out to make his way to the Tesco. In the car, he put on his favorite playlist and bopped along to the music, trying to dance off some nerves as best he could in the seat of his Toyota. 

“This is going to be good,” Harry told himself, “This is a second chance, and I’m going to make things right this time. This is going to be good. Just be myself and all will be okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

He parked the Toyota and checked over his equipment. He grabbed his camera and checked the film twice before putting the strap over his neck and making his way to the front of the main entrance of the Tesco. A few other paps were there, standing in the shade further back. Harry squinted in the sun, but knew that the sunlight would produce better pictures. Besides, the sun would bring out the golden tone of Louis’ caramel skin. 

Soon, Louis’ black Range Rover pulled up into the parking lot. Harry lifted his camera to get into his position. Louis stepped out of the Range Rover and shoved his keys into the pocket of his denim jacket. Harry felt himself go a bit breathless at the sight of Louis Tomlinson in a beanie and aviators in person. He took a shaky breath and began to snap a few pictures. When Louis approached, Harry felt the nerves knot in his stomach. This was his second chance though, and he needed to make things right.

“Hi, Louis,” he said brightly, hopefully, as Louis passed by him. Louis paused, lowering his aviators down on his nose and raised an eyebrow.

“You,” Louis, blinked.

“Me,” Harry smiled brighter, feeling the dimple in his cheek, “I hope you’re having a good day, Louis. The weather is beautiful, eh?”

“Are….are you really asking me about the _weather_ right now?”

Harry felt the blush on his cheeks and he cursed his ability to turn pink at the drop of a pin, “Um….yeah, I guess so. So many of the other photographers were all yelling at you to look their way or walk slower and I guess I just figured you’d be sick of paps yelling at you and you’d appreciate something….not….yelling.”

Louis blinked again before pushing the aviators back on his nose, “I’m sick of paps saying things to me in general, curly.”

Harry tried not to preen at the nickname, he really did. Especially considering that Louis had pushed up his aviators so dismissively and pretty much compared his niceties to the barking orders of the other paps. But Harry just couldn’t help himself. He blushed again, ducking his head a little in an attempt to hide his smile, forever a sucker for nicknames.

“Well,” Harry toed at the cement, “ ‘m mum always told me to treat everyone with kindness. Even popstars who pretend they’re too cool and hide from it behind a pair of aviators.”

Louis sputtered a bit and Harry bit the inside of his cheek, hoping he didn’t look too pleased with himself at having rendered Louis Tomlinson of all people speechless. Niall had told him to be charming, not to flirt with him. But Harry just couldn’t help it. Besides, those two wires tended to get crossed at times, especially when in the presence of his long-time crush. Harry felt a streak of boldness jolt through him and he shot Louis a shit-eating grin. 

“Oi,” Louis pulled the aviators back down, revealing a soft pink on his cheeks that wasn’t there before, “Who do you think you are….”

“Enjoy your shopping, Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry said sweetly, snapping one last picture of Louis standing there sputtering before turning on his heel and walking away. He was feeling quite proud of himself. He knew it was a rare thing for Louis Tomlinson to be speechless. Besides, if Harry was going to have to do this, he might as well have some fun with it. And he knew there’d be a time when Louis might just let himself cave and have some fun with it too. Hopefully.

\--

Louis made his way through Tesco in a daze. At first he’d been angry. Who did the pretty pap think he was saying something so brazen to him like that? But as he made his way through the aisles, his anger softened a bit into something akin to almost admiration? The kid had balls, that was for sure. And that smile he’d flashed could have even rivaled Louis’ best shit-eating grins. He was quick when it came to wit, a vast contrast to him stumbling over his words during their previous encounter. Louis allowed himself a brief moment to wonder what it’d be like to share some banter with the boy. He seemed like he could keep up, and that was always something impressive to Louis.

He tried to remind himself though that this was a pap, and in the end, he’d snapped a photo. It was all about getting a reaction, just as it was with all the other paps. Sweet as this boy may appear under curls and blushing cheeks, he was just as shitty as the rest. Louis gripped the handle of the cart until his knuckles were white. He wondered what rag the picture would be sold to, what the caption would be. No one ever rendered him speechless. It was a historic thing, the kind of article that Louis could see deserving to sell big. He was impressed by the kid, even as he hated him. 

Louis tossed some Cocoa Pops into the cart, trying not to think about the stirring in his stomach when the pretty pap had called him out. He did have a point, he was a stark difference to the other paps. They were all scum, but this one was almost charming? Louis shook his head, adding milk to his cart as well. It didn’t make sense. Paps weren’t supposed to be pretty or charming. Louis tried to remind himself of that final picture the pap had snapped, but even then it seemed more for his own enjoyment than selling it to a bidder. Louis was confused, and he hated being confused. He continued on with his grocery shopping, and when he neared the register, he almost hoped that the pretty pap would still be there, that he hadn’t left just yet. Louis wasn’t quite done with him just yet.

As he headed out the doors, shopping cart in front of him, he found himself glancing around and feeling rather stupid for actually hunting out a pap. He spotted the boy by a beat up Toyota, putting his camera equipment away. Louis bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the smirk as he made his way towards him.

“Louis! Look over here!” One of the other paps shouted. Louis paid him no mind.

“Fucking popstars, all the same,” the pap growled.

Louis just rolled his eyes, not letting the moron behind the camera deter him from his mission. As he walked towards the boy, he realized the stark difference between his playful banter and the other pap’s blatant insult. Louis took a breath, stopping just at the Toyota.

“You are an absolute menace, you know that right?” Louis asked.

The boy’s head snapped up so fast Louis wondered if he might have sustained neck damage. His green eyes widened even larger and Louis really wished they wouldn’t do it. They truly did look like Disney Princess Eyes. Like Baby Rapunzel’s.

“And how’s that?” The pap asked, a small hint of a smirk teasing his lips.

“You are a pap, first of all. You take my picture but not only do you stalk me to photograph me, you make me spill my beloved latte, you insult me and my - I’ll have you know - _very cool, very expensive_ aviators, and you apparently stalk me on the internet too. A real bloody menace, you are.”

A smile broke out across the boy’s face before he made a poor attempt of schooling his expression, “Well of course they’re expensive aviators. As if anything under two hundred pounds would be sold at Prats R Us. Tell me, do you have a loyalty card? You know, loyal, frequent shopper and all that.”

Louis felt a laugh threaten to bubble up but he pushed it back down with a cough and a quirked brow, “Clever, baby pap. I have to give you some credit. It’s rare someone so young has decent banter. But I think I must be going, and it’s probably nap time for you soon anyway.”

The pap rolled his eyes, “I’m twenty-three, you know. Hardly a baby.”

Louis swallowed. Okay, so the kid was legal. Beyond legal. That was….interesting. He flicked the fringe from his eyes, trying not to pay that fact too much mind, “Still a baby, baby.”

The pap’s cheeks pinkened prettily and Louis felt almost as flushed as the pap at the sight. He really needed to pull himself together. What was he even doing in the first place, interacting with a bloody paparazzi of all things - flirting even! He really needed to get his head checked. Why was he even still standing there? 

“Alright, old man,” the pap grinned, “Better get going. You’ll miss the senior special at the diner.”

“God damn bloody menace,” Louis said, unable to form any heat behind his words.

“Until next time, Mr. Tomlinson.”

“Until next time, baby.”

Louis turned and made his way towards his Range Rover, wondering the entire time - what the absolute fuck was that?

\--

“What the absolute fuck was that?” Harry asked, “I mean, we were _flirting!_ At least, I think we were flirting. It was….it was _something_ , that was for sure. He calls me ‘baby’ did I tell you? I call him Mr. Tomlinson and he calls me baby and it sounds like something from some erotic fanfiction but it’s not….not really. It’s just….a thing. We have a thing, I think? At least when it comes to nicknames. Is any of this making any sense?” Harry paused his pacing around the living room to shoot a glance to Niall who was in the middle of trying to blast the head off some zombie in his video game.

“Pet, none of that makes any sense. Sounds kinky though. You’re gonna get yourself a proper sugar daddy here, just watch.”

The blood drained from Harry’s face and he excused himself to his bedroom. Once behind the privacy of his door, he sunk down onto his bed and pressed his fingers against his temples. The nickname thing was just light banter, right? He would never be someone’s sugar baby. That wasn’t at all what he’d ever want from anyone. He would never settle for something like that. But he supposed in a way, it was almost like a sugar daddy relationship in a twisted, sick way. Harry was selling his soul to be a paparazzi to make money off of Louis Tomlinson. It felt sick and wrong and he hated it. Why couldn’t he get to take pictures of David Beckham or someone - anyone - not Louis Tomlinson. He could maybe push through having to take pictures of someone else. With Louis though, the boy he’d had a crush on for so, so long, everything felt a thousand times worse. He hated it, hated being paid off Louis’ pictures. But it was the one way he could put himself through school, afford his camera equipment, and get to practice his photography. There really were no other options for him.

Harry threw himself back against his pillows. The next time he’d run into Louis Tomlinson, he’d put an end to this nickname stuff. As fun as it was, as much as it made butterflies tickle inside him, he couldn’t let that continue. It reminded him too much of what the relationship was between them, the relationship he despised. Over his dead body would he ever be a sugar baby, even if in a way, he kind of already was. This couldn’t continue on like this. He wouldn’t let it.

\--

“This can’t continue on, Liam,” Louis huffed, pulling two beers from the fridge, “I won’t let it.”

“What exactly happened that you rang me and told me I had to come over right this moment, Lou? I swear to god….”

“I don’t know what happened or how, but I think….I think the pretty pap and I are….flirting.”

Liam blinked, “Louis, I was in the middle of important business dealings….”

“And this is far more important, Leeyum. We were flirting! _Flirting!_ Me! With a paparazzi!”

“Well you did say he was cute….”

Louis gasped, affronted, “I said no such thing!” He cracked open his beer and downed a long pull before explaining, “One moment I was trying to shoo him away and be cold with him, and the next I had butterflies. Fucking butterflies, Li! Because of a pap!”

“Louis, you’re being ridiculous,” Liam opened his own beer, “Just take a breath and….”

“He called me Mr. Tomlinson.”

“So?”

“I called him baby.”

Liam nearly choked on his beer. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, “You’re….you….oh god damn it, Lou. Leave it to you to make it creepy.”

“It is not creepy! I mean, okay. I can see how to an outsider it could be creepy. But it’s just a thing…..a banter thing. Like me mispronouncing your name when I’m annoyed with you, Loam.”

“I didn’t even do anything!”

“You didn’t have to,” Louis smirked, taking another swig of his beer.

“You’re a bloody menace,” Liam shook his head, “You need to figure this shit out, Louis. Having feelings for a paparazzi is….unusual to say the least. This is uncharted territory here, bub. You need to figure out what you’re doing and what you want. Do you want to be with him? Because if so, that’s a delicate…..”

“No I don’t want to be with him,” Louis scoffed, “He’s an annoying little prat who is barely old enough to drink and whose eyes are too big for his stupid face.”

“Right,” Liam nodded, “The princess eyes.”

Louis glared at him, “Try me, Payno.”

“You’re the one who said it first,” Liam held up his hands in surrender, “Look, just sort this out, Louis. You’ve been hung up on this guy for the last week and you have to start buckling down. The song hits radio in a few days. We have radio interviews lined up for the next week. I just want to make sure your head is in the game.”

“Easy there, Troy Bolton. I’ve got this, you know I do. I’m not going to let him get into my head, especially when we have work to do. I just….I don’t know what to do with him.”

“Do you mean about him, or to him?”

Louis smacked Liam in the arse with a dish towel.

The radio first of the radio interviews were scheduled for Monday morning. Sunday night, Louis read over the list of preapproved questions the radio station had sent over to Liam. They were the typical questions, light and easy. Louis curled up in his bed, reading over the questions and felt an unsettling uneasiness despite the lightness of the questions. This would be his first interview since having lost his mum, this was his first song he’d written and put out since her death. After they’d lost her, he’d sort of closed himself away from the music scene. He had still written so much, but it was all so very private. This was the moment he’d be putting himself out there for the first time in so long. His new song was about hope and a new day dawning. It was personal and there was a huge part of him that wanted to share that with the fans. There was another part though that wanted to keep it private just for him. Monday morning would be the first real start of putting himself back out there and he was starting to doubt his readiness to do so. It’d been months, and he’d felt so, so ready leading up to this moment. But now, the night before the first interview, Louis wondered how he ever thought he was ready to face this so soon. Maybe he needed more time, more time to be alone and to process. But he knew it’d been long enough, it was now or never and this was something he needed to do not just for himself, but for his mum as well.

Louis grabbed for his phone, thinking of calling up Liam. But it was late, and they had to be up at four to get to the station to record the morning show. Louis set the phone back on the nightstand and discarded the questions to the floor. Liam was a good friend, he was. But Louis knew he never really understood. He couldn’t understand, it wasn’t his fault, he just hadn’t ever lost anyone he’d loved before. He could try to understand, but never could unless it happened to him and Louis honestly prayed it wouldn’t for a very long time. He wanted to talk to someone though, but knowing Liam would probably just tell him the same things of “it’ll all be okay, she loves you and is always with you, you’re strong, you’ll get through this.” The sentiments were nice, but….Louis wanted something a bit….he didn’t even know.

Which made it difficult to explain when not even he understood it.

He turned off the light on the night stand and flipped over to face the other side of his room. Four would come far too soon, and he was uneasy and restless. After an hour of struggling to sleep, Louis again grabbed for his phone. He didn’t know why, but he found himself typing in ‘Louis Tomlinson Pap Pictures’ into the search engine. So many bad candid pictures popped up, including the nightmare photos of the night with the broken camera. He scrolled through a bit until he came across the photos from Tesco. He clicked, pulling up an article entitled, “ _Louis Tomlinson Steps Out For Grocery Run….Could New Song Be Coming Soon?_ ” He scrolled through the article a bit until he got to the bottom where the final pictures were. He couldn’t help but notice how different these pictures were to the typical pap pictures he’d seen of himself. These were taken with what could almost be described as care. Below the picture was the caption, “Photo courtesy of H. Styles, DeLuca Pictures.” 

Louis’ breath hitched as he typed ‘H. Styles’ into the search engine. He came across more pap photos of various B and C list celebs, and eventually found an Instagram account. The description read, “Harry E. Styles. Freelance Photographer and Vintage Everything Enthusiast.” Louis scrolled through the pictures. It was a photography account, all pictures Harry had taken. They were all so stunningly gorgeous that they took Louis’ breath away. Photographs had always been boring to him. He’d have much rather looked at a painting or sculpture. But these truly were works of art. He could tell the craft and care that went into the placement of the subject matter and lighting. Harry’s subjects ranged from still life of fruit bowls to wildflowers in a field, to a mother nursing a child. Louis felt the tears swell up in his eyes and he didn’t know why but suddenly he had to set his phone down and wipe the wetness from his cheeks. 

It didn’t make sense, crying over photographs on Instagram at one in the morning. But then again, nothing about Harry Styles or his presence in Louis’ life made any sense. These photos were so vastly different than pap photos. Paps didn’t care about light and exposure. It was all about quick and fast and the most amount of pictures in the shortest amount of time, and the biggest paychecks. These photos were constructed so carefully, so much care had gone into them. Louis was overwhelmed. He grabbed for the phone again, and found himself on Facebook next.

He felt like a creep. He was being a creep. Nothing about this was at all okay, but Louis was in too deep now to stop. So he searched Facebook for Harry Styles and was surprised to see the pretty pap was the very first result to pop up. Louis told himself that this was ridiculous, that he shouldn’t be doing this, that Harry Styles was just a pap. But he knew he couldn’t ever use that as an excuse again. Because Harry Styles was so, so much more than just a pap.

From the Facebook page, Louis learned that Harry Styles really was twenty-three, that he was in school studying to be a professional photographer, that he had a mum and an older sister whom he was very close to. He learned he loved Charles Bukowski and Titanic and Love Actually and art museums and old rock music. He flicked through the countless photos of the boy with big green Disney Princess eyes and chocolate curls and dimples out with his friends, having drinks at pubs and laughing with bright, watery eyes. There were pictures of him snuggled up with his sister, snuggled up with his mum, with his step dad. There were pictures of his photography too - this time photography of his loved ones. Louis was overwhelmed. This boy was so, so much more than just a pap. He was sweet, and darling, and a ridiculously clingy drunk. He scrolled through his posts and found various one to two sentence posts with ridiculous questions, musings, etc. about everything from life to sandwich toppings.

And Louis was smitten.

And then he came across one post from a few days ago that read, “I’m glad I bumped into you last week, if I had to someone’s scalding hot coffee splashed on me, I’d much rather have it be yours.”

And Louis was beyond just smitten.

\--

Harry’s alarm sounded way too early and for a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. When he realized he wasn’t, he let out a groan and slapped around his nightstand for his phone. It was a quarter until four, and he was supposed to be at the radio station to photograph Louis Tomlinson going in to talk about his new song. Harry felt an odd mix of excitement and dread as he got ready and pulled his hoodie on over his head sleepily. Part of him wanted to see Louis, to banter with him again. Another part of him remembered that he would need to put an end to that very banter today. It just couldn’t continue like it had. Harry was using him for his own financial gain and it wasn’t fair and it would be a screwed up situation no matter what. He needed to cut his losses before he got too attached.

“Too late for that,” Harry grumbled at his reflection as he brushed through his curls in the bathroom mirror before tossing them up into a bun at the top of his head. 

He grabbed his keys and headed out as quietly as he could without waking Niall. As he drove to the radio station, he tried to think of a thousand and one things to say to Louis. The truth was, he should have never crossed that boundary and flirted with him in the first place. It was okay. Maybe in another universe where Louis wasn’t the famous pop star and Harry wasn’t the scummy low-life paparazzi hired to photograph his every move, things would have been different. But this wasn’t that universe, this was this universe; and Harry needed to draw that line back into place that he himself had encouraged to be blurred.

He pulled into a parking space at the radio station. No other paps were there, probably because it was so early and no one else would have taken it unless as desperate as Harry. He knew he would be getting paid extra for these early morning photos and the thought of being able to afford a new flash for his camera soon made it worth it. As he checked his film, that sinking feeling of guilt overcame him. He was using Louis Tomlinson and his pictures in order to have material objects. Nothing about any of this felt right, and Harry wished more than anything he could have taken any other assignment at any other employer instead of literally bumping into Louis Tomlinson. That had been a moment of such dread and embarrassment, but after the Tesco photos, Harry had felt hopeful that maybe, just maybe things were turning around. And then it’d dawned on him just what this relationship was, and he knew he couldn’t let it continue on the way it was starting to. 

The black Range Rover pulled up, and Harry put the camera strap over his neck. Louis hopped out of the Range Rover and Harry approached him.

“Hey you,” Louis smiled brightly, different from his usual demeanor at pap shoots, “Just you today?”

“Just me,” Harry smiled, though he knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Just gotta get a few shots of you heading into the station, then of you leaving. Just act natural, or whatever.”

“What time did you have to be here?” Louis asked, starting to make his way across the parking lot.

Harry’s heart sank as he said, “You don’t have to talk, I just need you looking natural.”

Louis stopped his tracks and turned to Harry. The look on his face made Harry’s stomach sink. “What’s going on, Curly? Not in the mood to talk my ear off this early in the morning?”

Louis was still trying, and that’s what hurt the most, Harry thought. “I’m tired, Louis. I just need a few good shots of you heading into the building. Try not to look at the camera, okay? Just….be natural. You don’t like having to interact with paps anyway.”

“Right,” Louis looked at Harry from the corner of his eye, but continued to walk towards the main entrance of the building. 

Harry snapped the photos he needed, quick and hurried just like all the other paps. That was what he was, after all. Just another paparazzi, profiting off someone else for their own financial gain. He could try to slice it a million different ways, but this was the truth of the matter. Harry was no better than all the other who’d shoved cameras into Louis’ face throughout the years. 

“You’ll be out here when I’m done?” Louis asked, reaching the door.

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay then,” Louis sent him a funny look and pulled the door open and headed inside.

Harry sunk down on the steps of the building. If this were any other universe, he could allow himself to fall for Louis Tomlinson. This just wasn’t that universe. Harry put his head in his hands as he waited. He was going to be sick.

\--

Louis was going to be sick. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Liam said, massaging Louis’ shoulders, “Just like we practiced, alright?”

“Yeah,” Louis nodded, “Alright.”

He was off balance though. Something wasn’t right with Harry and Louis was bothered by that. He knew they’d only had two interactions, but Louis still knew enough to know that something wasn’t right. The boy outside in the parking lot was not the bright happy boy with princess eyes and dimples and a ridiculous penchant for being a bit of a knob. After having creeped on his Facebook the following night, it only confirmed that something was off. Louis didn’t like that. He wanted to know what was wrong, wanted to fix it. 

“All set?” Eliza, the morning show host, asked.

Louis was sat in the black spinny chair in front of mics and a sound board. She sat down in the seat across from him, her list of questions poised in her hand. Louis took a deep breath and nodded. It was no or never, right?

“Excellent. Alright,” Eliza pressed some buttons on her soundboard before adjusting her mic and saying, “Welcome back everyone! This morning I’m in the studio with Louis Tomlinson! Some might know him from his previous bops but today we are here to inform you his new song is coming to our station this Thursday! Louis, welcome to the station.”

“Thank you, happy to be here,” Louis said as breezily as he could.

“So, Louis,” Eliza paused for effect, “Your first single in six months is out now. What does it feel like to be back in the music scene?”

“Pretty great, actually,” Louis glanced to Liam who nodded and flashed him a thumbs up, “It was a bit difficult at first, wondering if I was coming back to it too soon, or if my fans would even still be here for me. I should never even question that though, they’re amazing every single one of them. The new single is something very personal and I am so excited to share it with them. Obviously, they’ve been so incredible with streaming it and downloading it, but i cannot wait for them to be able to hear it on the radio and to a larger audience.”

“That’s amazing, Louis. What was the best part of writing this new track?”

Louis tugged at his fringe, “Um, how therapeutic it was really. It helped me get my head sorted after everything I had going on at the time. It’s just such an uplifting message and I hope as it did for me, that it’ll be a reminder for my fans to keep looking to the horizon when things feel like they’re all going wrong, because another day is coming.”

“That’s such a lovely sentiment. So uplifting. As you know, you have quite the reputation for writing romantic lyrics. Is there any special person in your life who inspires that side of you?”

Louis stilled in his chair, “Um….well, no. I’m single. Been single quite awhile now. Just me and me dog, I’m afraid. Proper bachelor status.”

“So there’s no one in your life at all right now romantically?”

“No,” Louis answered, feeling something in his stomach stir as he leaned towards the mic, “I mean, there is this one person….”

Liam put his face in his hands, but Eliza lit up like a Christmas tree, “Ooh, do tell!”

“Not much to tell, I’m afraid,” Louis smiled softly, “Um….he’s pretty. Like, really, really pretty. Green eyes, brown curls. But, I don’t even know if it’s going to go anywhere but I….I think it could. If….”

“If?” Eliza pressed.

“If I let it. If he lets it.”

Liam coughed and Eliza continued on with her questions ranging from his thoughts on the new 50 Shades movie (ew) to his favorite pizza toppings (pepperoni, ham, jalapenos, double cheese please and thank you). After another ten minutes, they wrapped up and Louis thanked her and the station. He reminded the listeners to tune in on Thursday to hear the new single, and pulled the headphones off as soon as Eliza had motioned he could.

“That was great, thank you so much Louis,” she shook his hand.

“Oh no problem,” Louis smiled his best toothpaste commercial smile, “Thanks for having me, love.”

“What was that?” Liam hissed as they headed towards the exit.

“Nothing,” Louis shrugged, “Head on to the car. I’m gonna chat with the pap a bit.”

“Lord,” Liam shook his head, “Louis….”

“Liam, please,” Louis shot him a pleading look he knew Liam was incapable of saying no to. Liam sighed, but headed out the doors ahead of Louis. Louis adjusted his fringe and headed out shortly behind Liam. Harry stood from the steps and raised his camera. Louis reached a hand out and gently lowered it.

“Just….chill a minute, will you?”

“I just need a few pictures….”

“And you’ll get them. Just….talk to me. Why so cold earlier, Harry?”

The boy’s cheeks pinkened, “You….you know my name?”

“You aren’t the only one who can creep on the computer, Curly. I did my research.”

“That’s mildly unsettling.”

“As it should be. So what gives? What’s up with you today?”

Harry worried his bottom lip between his teeth. The poor thing looked absolutely miserable and Louis wanted to do something to help. He thought about bringing a hand up to squeeze his shoulder but decided against it.

“Get your teeth off your lip, you’re gonna make it bleed,” Louis scolded sharper than he’d intended.

Harry’s lip popped free, bright red and spit-slick. He looked horrified and began to trip over his words as he stammered out, “I just….I don’t think we can….we can’t do this thing Louis. This….whatever it is. You’re the celebrity, alright? I’m nothing but the scummy pap hired to take your pictures. I’m using you, Louis! Doesn’t that….doesn’t that infuriate you? Don’t you want to hate me? You should want to hate me. I use you. I get money from stalking you around and photographing you. I….I _sell_ you.”

Louis’ brows furrowed. He should be agreeing with him. He should be outraged with him as he is with every other paparazzi. He should think what Harry’s doing is wrong and upsetting and makes him scum. But Louis knows at this point he could never see Harry that way even if he wanted to. He shook his head, stepping forward, “Harry, no. That’s not….no. I….”

Harry cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, “I think we need to remember what this is here, Louis. What this relationship is. I take your pictures and sell them to tabloids to get money. That’s what I do. You are….you are a paycheck.”

Louis felt as though he’d just been slapped across the face. Nothing was making any fucking sense and this felt like way too intimate of a discussion to be having after just two meetings. This felt eerily like a breakup, and Louis hated it for that.

“Fine,” Louis felt his cheeks flame, “But promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Listen to the morning show on your way home, okay? Just….just listen to it.”

“Whatever. I’m here for my pictures. That’s all.”

“You want your fucking pictures?” Louis asked, “Fine. Here’s your pictures,” he walked back to the Range Rover with his middle fingers in the air, knowing full well any photos Harry took would be rendered useless because of it. 

“What the hell was that about?” Liam asked when Louis slunk into his seat of the Range Rover.

“Nothing. Just forget it.”

“Louis….”

“I said it’s nothing,” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, “Christ, Liam. It’s not like I even know him, or him me. He’s a fucking paparazzi. That’s all he is and that’s all he’ll ever be. It was stupid to have any sort of feelings for him aside from absolute disgust. He’s just a paparazzi. He only cares about getting his pictures and selling them to the highest price tag. He’s slime just like all the rest of them.”

Louis felt the tears prickle his eyes and a hand squeeze his thigh, “Babe,” Liam said softly, “Who are you trying to convince of that, you or me?”

\--

“You did the right thing,” Harry said, pulling out of the parking lot, “You did the right thing. You’re a paparazzi hired to use him. Any feelings that might be there or that might spring up cannot happen. You did the right thing in stopping whatever was going on. You should never have encouraged it to start with. You did the right thing. You did the right thing.”

His hand reached out to the knob of the volume dial and he listened to Eliza Carr carrying on and on about whatever she was talking about. His mind was elsewhere though. He’d done the right thing, there was no room for doubting that. But Louis’ face had looked so dejected. Harry had hated the fact that it was because of him and what he’d said and done that Louis had looked so hurt. But in had been with their best interests in mind. Having feelings for the boy he was hired to use for pap photos was just not allowed. There’d be some weird power dynamic. It just wasn’t okay. Niall had been right. It felt very sugar daddy-esque and Harry drew the line at that. It was all for the best.

He’d done the right thing.

“Coming up next,” Eliza said excitedly, “We have special guest, singer songwriter Louis Tomlinson in the studio with us! Stay tuned!” 

“Should just turn this bloody thing off,” Harry grumbled to no one. But Louis had asked him to listen, so he would. After seeing Louis’ face, it was the least Harry could give him.

When commercial break ended, Eliza introduced Louis again. They talked a bit about his new single and his experience being back in the music world after taking his hiatus after the loss of his mum. Harry tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He’d remembered when he’d heard the news of Jay’s passing. She had been so active in Louis’ life and in his career. She’d done so much for his charity work, and they truly were partners and best friends. Harry remembered how his heart had ached so heavily at the news of her passing, and the worry and genuine fear he felt for Louis. He’d prayed so many nights that Louis would be okay, that he would pull through. He’d fallen off the map, and Harry had been thankful he’d gotten his privacy, but he still worried achingly about him. And then one day, Louis had taken to twitter to announce he’d been working on some things, and a few months later, the new single was being dropped. Harry had hoped one day he could meet Louis and thank him for the powerful message behind his words to the catchy, upbeat tune. Never would he have ever imagined the events of the last two weeks.

Then Eliza asked it, the question about his love life. Harry hated it when interviewers asked celebrities those questions. “As if they’d ever tell you….” Harry rolled his eyes at the question.

“Um….well, no. I’m single. Been single quite awhile now. Just me and me dog, I’m afraid. Proper bachelor status.”

“So there’s no one in your life at all right now romantically?”

“No….I mean, there is this one person….”

“Ooh, do tell!”

“Not much to tell, I’m afraid. Um….he’s pretty. Like, really, really pretty. Green eyes, brown curls. But, I don’t even know if it’s going to go anywhere but I….I think it could. If….”

“If?”

“If I let it. If he lets it.”

Harry was thankful to have been parked in morning traffic at that exact moment or else there was a very likely chance he might have wrecked his car. He wanted to rewind the interview to see if maybe he’d misheard, but he knew he’d heard correctly. Louis had said there might be something there between them if only they’d both let it. 

A wave of hopefulness swept through Harry. “Yes, yes, yes please, I want to let it!” He wanted to scream from the rooftops of every building, but the realization of his words slammed into him like bricks. He’d told Louis there was no way they could ever let anything happen between them. He’d said he was nothing more than a paparazzi and that Louis was nothing more than his paycheck. Harry felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to throw up, wanted to cry. Instead, all he felt was a sickening numbness. 

“I don’t want this to be how it is,” he whimpered to the steering wheel, “I don’t want us to be like this. I want to flirt with you and I want to banter with you and I want to blur those lines with you. I want to see where this goes and what this could be. I want so much and too much. We can never have those things. We just can’t. I’m paid to be a paparazzi. I am paid to use you. I am paid to use you, and what possible relationship can be founded on something so ugly?”

When Harry got home, he made a beeline to his bedroom. He kicked off his boots and shimmied out of his skinny jeans and into his most comfortable pajamas. Today was a pajama day. He didn’t have classes until the evening, and he had every intention of hiding in his room, under his covers. He pulled the duvet up over his head and let out whimper. It had just been two meetings, two conversations if you could even call them that. But he’d felt something there with Louis that day at Tesco, and if he was honest with himself, at the Starbucks too. It wasn’t just the awe of being face to face with his celebrity crush, it was so much more than that. And he knew Louis had felt it to or else he wouldn’t have creeped on his Facebook or said those things during his interview. 

A knock on his bedroom door interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” Harry mumbled into the duvet.

Niall shut the door behind him and sank down on the edge of Harry’s bed, “You want to talk about it?” He asked.

“No….yes. I don’t know, Niall. I think I may have broken up with Louis Tomlinson.”

Niall didn’t laugh or cough or make any movement to suggest surprise by that statement. Instead, he placed a soft hand on Harry’s shoulder and said, “And why would you think that, pet? What happened?”

“When I told you we were flirting, you made the comment that it was like a sugar daddy situation. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how messed up the situation actually is. I’m paid to use him, Niall. How can I possibly have feelings for him while using him at the same time. And how can I ever possibly hope for him to feel the same when I’m using him to make money. I just….I told him it can’t go on like this. I told him what I am and how we have to keep this strictly like every other celebrity/pap interaction.”

“And how did he take that?”

“Not well.”

“I’m sorry, bub. I really am. But….it was just two encounters with him. You don’t know what could have happened. And when I made that comment, I was just talking shit, H. I don’t want you to be all upset because of some off the cuff comment I made in bad taste. I was just talking shit, Harry. Really.”

“But there’s truth to it. I use him to make money. There’s something twisted there. There’s no way that could ever be the foundation for something good. I know there’s strain between celebs and paps - as there should be. Paparazzi are horrible, Niall. They say and do horrible things just to get a story to sell. But this whole time since agreeing to this, I’ve been trying to convince myself that’s not who I am. But it is. I’m no different than everyone else shoving cameras in his face and using him for a fast buck. I have to sever whatever I was feeling towards him. It wasn’t healthy, Niall.”

“Neither is hiding under the covers looking like someone’s kicked your puppy, H,” Niall kicked his shoes off and scooted up so that he was laying in bed next to Harry. He swung an arm over Harry’s shoulder and pulled him to his chest, “Listen, pet. Whatever you feel is okay. If you feel like there’s something that can be there between you and Louis, then don’t try to chase it away or scare it away or whatever this is. It’s not an inherently bad thing because you’re a pap, and you’re not an inherently bad person because your a pap either. You’re so much different than the rest of them, sunshine. You’ve got your charm, H. And you’re sweet as cupcakes. And you win everyone over with one bat of your eyes. The thing that separates you from them is your kindness. Don’t group yourself in with them just because you share the same profession.”

“What am I going to do, Niall?” Harry tucked his face into Niall’s t-shirt, wishing he could just hide there forever and never have to face the consequences of the last two weeks.

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,” Niall held him a bit tighter, “You’re going to have a good little cry over it and you’re going to watch Love Actually with me and you’re going to get dressed tonight and go to classes and when the next call comes, you’re going to show up there and you’re going to be kind and lovely to Louis like you’re kind and lovely towards everyone. And just see what happens, H. But I’ll tell you what you’re not to do. You are _not_ to clump yourself in with the invasive jerks who shout slurs at him and throw comments around about his dead mum to get a rise from him. You’re _not_ to look at yourself as being anywhere akin to them. You are _not_ to call yourself nothing but a paparazzi. You are so much more, Harry. You’re good and you’re sweet and you need to let him see that. You need to not be afraid of him seeing that.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the tears not to spill just yet.

“Have I ever told you how much I absolutely love you Niall Horan?”

Niall pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s curls before tucking a hand under the duvet and giving Harry a quick tickle, making him squeal and squirm away.

“That’s what you get,” Niall scoffed playfully, “for fucking getting snot all over my shirt. You’re doing my laundry for this, just so you know. Now get your snotty arse out of this bed. We’re watching Love Actually.”

\--

“Come on, get your arse out of this bed. I’ve brought beer and pizza is on it’s way.”

Louis cracked an eye open, “Remind me again why I ever gave you a key.”

“For emergencies. And times like these where you’ve barricaded yourself in your room and are refusing to come out for anyone.”

Louis rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Clifford’s frame. The dog was cuddled up next to him on the bed, and was honestly the best teddy bear Louis had ever had in his life. He pressed a kiss to Clifford’s head.

“I know you’ve got the beast in there with you,” Liam called through the door, “He needs a walk, Lou.”

“You’re calling Cliff a beast when you’ve got several massive mutant creatures you call dogs living under your roof.”

Liam sighed, “Just come out, Lou. I know today was shit, but you have to come out at some point.”

“I’ll come out if you me you’ll pull some strings and get another pap. If I have to see his face again Li, so help me….”

“You and I both know I can’t do that, Lou.”

“Fine, then I’m never doing a pap walk ever again.”

“You have one scheduled for tomorrow at three. Just open the damn door.”

Louis took a breath and kicked off the covers. He swung open the bedroom door, “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate you.”

“Oh you do not,” Liam rolled his eyes, grabbing Louis and pulling him to his chest, “You’re going to be fine, bub,” Liam said, fingers stroking the soft tufts of hair at the back of Louis’ neck, “You’re going to be okay. He’s a pap. You said it yourself. Paparazzi are no good, Lou. Apart from getting you out there and putting your face out there for the GP anyway, they are no good. They’re slimy people, Louis. You and I both know that.”

“There’s just something about him though, Liam,” Louis frowned, hating hearing those words and regretting the fact that he had ever said them, “He’s different. I know he is.”

“The pizza is gonna be here soon. I’m going to crack open some beer. If your arse isn’t on that couch turning on Grease by the time I’m done popping these open, I’m throwing you over my shoulder and putting you on that couch myself.”

For a brief moment Louis debated saying something snarky and slamming the door in Liam’s face, but he knew from experience Liam had no qualms with carrying out his threats. Louis’ bum found itself quickly planted on the couch as he pulled up Grease on Netflix. 

Liam passed him a cold Stella from the fridge, “Just take today, bub, to relax and chill. Watch your favorite movies. Drink some beers. Have some pizza. Tomorrow, you’re going to go to Starbucks and you’re going to be professional as usual, okay. Just like you would be in any other pap shoot.”

Louis took another sip of his beer, “No promises.”

They spent the afternoon drinking and watching Louis’ favorite movies - Grease, Love Actually, and Titanic. Louis tried not to think about the last two being Harry’s favorite movies too, or Harry in general for that matter. Instead, he focused on the movies, focused on trying to put pepperoni in Liam’s hair, focused on trying not to cry over Jack and Rose on their little plank of wood, focused on flicking Liam in the nipple every chance he got. But he absolutely, one hundred percent certainly did not focus on Harry Styles. Not one itty, bitty, teeny, tiny bit.

Louis always had been a shit liar, even to himself.

The next afternoon, Louis put on his game face. He didn’t even know if Harry would be there for the pap walk or if someone else would be in his stead. Maybe the kid wouldn’t show up. Maybe he’d have called in sick or something. Louis wished he’d had that option. Instead, he was currently standing in his mirror adjusting his fringe under his beanie and putting the aviators back on his face. He had to admit, he looked good. The aviators did their job at concealing the fact that he hadn’t gotten much sleep if any at all. By two, he was out the door to meet his driver. 

“Just get in and get out. Get your coffee and go. This is no big deal, it’s just a pap walk.”

They’d taken the Range Rover, and by the time it had pulled up to the Starbucks, there were already about five paps standing outside. Louis bit his bottom lip, searching the faces for chocolate curls and emerald eyes. 

Of course he was there. Of course he’d be there. Louis felt mildly sick as he got out of the car and made his way past the paps and towards the Starbucks entrance. The cameras flashed and Louis tried to keep his cool. He stared down at his phone in his hands, pretending to be texting so as to not have to look at their faces or their flashes. Right as he passed by the familiar face, Louis’ anxiousness got the best of him. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and the toe of his Vans stubbed a crack in the pavement. His iPhone tumbled out of his hands and fell to the pavement below. 

Before he could even process what had happened, Harry was reaching down and picking it up for him, checking it over for cracks before passing it back to Louis.

“It looks okay, it didn’t shatter and I don’t see any cracks.”

“Um….thanks,” Louis looked over the phone and Harry had been right. Miraculously, it was in perfect condition.

“No problem,” Harry smiled, dimple digging into his cheek.

“You gonna be nice to me today?” Louis asked, pocketing his phone.

Harry’s cheeks flushed and he looked down bashfully at his scuffed boots, “Louis….”

“I was going to try my best to ignore you today,” Louis admitted, “That’s why I was pretending to text instead of looking where I was going. So I wouldn’t have to look at you. But apparently ignoring you is easier said than done, Curly. So here we are. Now then, are you going to play nice today? Or are you going to call me a paycheck again? Because honestly mate, that was a bit rude.”

Harry moved to chew his lip when Louis said, “What did I tell you about doing that?” The bottom lip quickly popped from between his teeth and he looked even more bashful than he did the moment prior.

“I was an arsehole,” Harry said.

“A bit of an understatement. Try again.”

“I was a horrible, horrible arsehole. I should never have called you nothing more than a paycheck. I shouldn’t have said those things, Louis. I’d take it all back if I could.”

“But you can’t,” Louis kept his voice calm, cool. “You know what else you said that was upsetting?” 

Harry crumbled, “Probably lots of things. I-I don’t really remember.”

“You said you were nothing but a paparazzi and that I should hate you for that. Do you remember that? You said you used me and that you were not any better than them. Look at me, Harry. Look at me. When I dropped my phone, did any of them come to pick it up? Did any of them even care? When they take my pictures, do they care about the composition of the exposure and the placement of the sun in reference to the subject? When you photograph me, do you shout homophobic slurs and hateful comments about my mum, my sisters, my brother just to try to get a rise out of me to sell a story? If I ever thought for a second that you were like any of them, I was wrong. Or at least, I thought I was up until yesterday morning. What the fuck was that anyway, huh?”

Harry wrung his hands in front of him, “Louis I….I don’t even know, okay. Everything is just….I don’t know. There was something there at that Tesco shoot. I felt it, and I think you felt it too. But I….whatever it is, it can’t be there. Whatever was there has to go away. I am using you. It’s just the truth of it. I use you like they use you and it’s not right. It’s not. I know it, and you know it. And they know it too, they just don’t care. I care though. And that’s why I just think we need to keep our space. No more nicknames, no more banter.”

Louis quirked a brow, “I don’t know about you Curly, but that sounds damn boring. Oops. Looks like I broke a rule. Maybe two even!”

“Louis….”

“C’mon,” Louis nudged Harry with his elbow as he continued to walk towards the entrance, “You and I both know that that sounds like absolute boring bullshit. What’s the point of no nicknames and no banter? I object full-heartedly! Give me a gavel so I can bang it on something.”

Louis thought he saw Harry’s lips quirk as he said, “Trust me, the last thing anyone needs to give you is a gavel.”

Louis gasped, “Harry Styles, was that banter I detect!”

“You’re a bad influence.”

“I am a _great_ influence! Influencing you to do away with whatever nonsense got into your head these last twenty four hours. Now then, give me a reason - a real reason - as to what that was.”

Harry glanced around the Starbucks, “Lou, there’s people here for your autograph and paps right outside. I can’t just….not here, okay.”

“That’s the first reasonable thing from your mouth in the last twenty four hours, Curly. Fine then. We’ll grab coffee to go, I’ll head back to the car. You get your pictures and you get in your car and you follow behind us to mine. Then you and I are going to have our coffee and talk this thing over like proper mature adults.”

“Isn’t inviting a pap back to your place like breaking a thousand and one rules?”

“I’ve apparently already broken two today,” Louis shrugged, “what’s a thousand and three?”

\--

“This is the exact opposite of everything you tried to do,” Harry muttered, gripping the wheel as he followed behind the Range Rover, “This is so bloody stupid. What the hell are you even doing going back to his place. This is a bad idea. A no good, very, very bad idea.”

The Range Rover turned down a small road encased with trees. Harry’s grip on the wheel tightened. He was legitimately following Louis’ driver back to Louis’ house. There was no turning back now though - literally, there was no where on the road to make a turn around. The Range Rover pulled up to a heavy iron gate. The driver pushed in the key code and headed through, Harry close behind.

Louis’ house was big, of course it was. But Harry was expecting some sort of lavish mansion. To his surprise and comfort, Louis’ house looked more like a grand estate that maybe was passed down in his family as opposed to some lavish modern mansion. It was smaller than the mansion Harry had envisioned, more modest by far. There was a green vine wrapping up the gray brick along one side of the house. The shutters were a dark green that complimented the grey of the brick and the green of the vine and the moss. The two cars parked in the circular gravel drive and Louis hopped out of the Rover. 

“So this is me,” he said with a wave of his hand, “Come inside and we can have our coffee. Oh, I hope you like dogs. Mine is a bit of a beast. Quite big, quite clumsy. I am sure you and he will get along swimmingly.”

“Hey!” Harry pouted slightly, trying not to smile, trying not to pay the butterflies in his tummy any mind. 

He followed Louis through the front door into the main entrance of the home. An iron lamp hung from the high ceiling and there was a cherrywood staircase in the middle of the entrance.

“My home,” Louis smiled proudly, “Feel free to kick off your shoes. Kitchen is this way. We can heat up our coffees and have a sit. Clifford should be around here somewhere. He’s always wary of new company so he might be hiding out somewhere.”

Harry followed Louis towards the kitchen, admiring the many family pictures that hung beautifully framed and organized on practically every wall. The kitchen was spacious, and Harry could picture both his and Niall’s bedrooms fitting with room to spare within it. Louis was at the microwave, sticking in his latte when he turned to take Harry’s hot chocolate from his hands.

“Not much cooking goes on in here I’m afraid,” Louis imputed the time for a minute and twenty seconds, “It’s fully equipped and I do know how to use appliances, it’s just I’ve never been a fan of cooking lavish meals when I can easily have cereal or a sandwich or takeaway. It’s less of a mess and less of a chore. Besides, what’s the use of a lavish meal with just me and Cliff to enjoy it?”

“Does it get lonely here?” Harry asked, hoping he wasn’t coming across as too nosey.

“Uh-uh,” Louis pointed to the kitchen table in a knook of the kitchen with full windows looking out into the gardens, “You sit. You don’t get to grill me until you answer a few questions of my own first, understood?”

Harry took a seat at the table and nodded.

“You didn’t think I’d just forgotten did you?” Louis retrieved the cups from the microwave, “Because I can assure you baby, I have every intention of getting to the bottom of what the hell was going through your head yesterday.”

Harry squirmed at the nickname, “We said no nicknames.”

“ _You_ said no nicknames,” Louis corrected, setting the cups down at the table and sitting across from Harry, “But if it really makes you uncomfortable or summat, I’ll stop.”

“N-no,” Harry took a sip of his hot chocolate, “I-I like it. It’s just….I don’t know.”

“Try explaining it to me then,” Louis said, his voice was calm and patient and Harry felt his body relaxing with the warm cup of cocoa in his hands and the soft blue eyes staring comfortingly at him from across the table. There was no heat or ice behind them, just softness and patience and a hint of confusion there as well.

“I don’t know,” Harry stared down at the paper cup in his hands, “I guess I got a bit….freaked out. That first time we met at Starbucks, I felt something there between us. I just didn’t know what it was yet. I thought I had made an absolute fool of myself. I didn’t know what to do. You were so cold about paparazzi and you have every right to be. And I let it slip that I had kind of creped on your a bit online. But only because you’re one of my most favorite singers, Louis and your song writing is….it’s _art_. Please know that. I wasn’t trying to be creepy or stalk you. I just….I wanted to know more of who you were. But I can see how you’d mistake that, me being a pap and telling you I was trying to know you. It does come across as intrusive and insulting. And I was so sure, so certain that I’d just made such a fool of myself. But my best mate, Niall, told me not to dwell on that. He said that the next time I saw you, I should be my charming self. I can be quite charming,” Harry smiled softly to his cocoa.

“I’m quite aware,” Louis smirked from across the table. 

The tips of Harry’s ears heated as he continued, “So at Tesco the next time I saw you, I just went for it. I was charming. But, sometimes my charm crosses the line into flirting. And I flirted with you. But you flirted back. And I just felt it - that thing again. It was a spark, Louis. I knew it. There was just this spark between us and I was so, so overwhelmed by that. And I hurried home and told Niall all about it because I just needed to talk to someone. And I told him about you calling me baby and about me calling you Mr. Tomlinson and he said it sounded like some sugar daddy type thing. And the more I thought on it, the more I realized how right he was. I use you for money, Louis. I….I use you and there’s no other way around it. I sell your pictures to the highest bidder just like every other pap standing out there with me. And I realized then in that moment that whatever spark I might have felt between us couldn’t exist. Nothing good can exist on a foundation that’s that ugly, Louis. I use you for money. It’s horrible. It is. And I wish….I wish things could be different but they aren’t.”

“So….the radio station? That was you trying to push me away?”

Harry nodded, his eyes stinging with tears he begged not to fall, “I just didn’t want there to be a misunderstanding here. I know we can’t have anything between us, Louis. Maybe if things were different and I wasn’t a paparazzi and you weren’t the celeb I’m paid to film….but you are and I am and….and this is how it has to be.”

“Alright,” Louis nodded, and Harry’s brows furrowed with confusion as Louis nodded again, I see. I do. I just have one tiny question though, Curly.”

“O-okay?”

“Who bloody says?”

Harry’s brows shot up, “Um….”

“Who bloody fucking says?” Louis asked again, a delighted and challenging look spreading across his face, “Who says that that’s how it has to be, Harry? You get paid to take my picture. Alright. But that doesn’t make you the same as them by default. Not by a long shot. You’re sweet, Harry. So incredibly sweet and funny and genuine. I don’t think you could be an ounce as disrespectful towards anyone as they are even if you tried.”

“But...but I’m one of them. I’m paid to shove cameras in your face and to sell a story.”

“Why is that anyway?” Louis asked, “You are talented as hell when it comes to photography. Shit, H, your photographs online moved me to tears the other night. Why are you a paparazzi when you could have your own gallery if you wanted?”

“You….you were moved to….to tears?”

“Well yeah,” Louis tugged at his fringe, a habit Harry was learning he took part in when nervous or trying to deflect, “I mean, they’re fucking stunning, H. You can’t blame a guy for getting a bit choked up over them. So why are you doing this then?”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Harry felt his cheeks heat and his heart swell within his chest, “Wow, Lou. Um...thank you? That’s….that’s incredible of you to say. But to open a gallery I need experience and I need money and those are two key things I don’t have right now. I’m a uni student trying to make it by. My parents can’t afford to help me with my fees so I pay for it all on my own. And photography isn’t cheap. I have to pay for all my equipment and rent out times to access the dark room. It all adds up, and I just can’t afford it without a very well paying job that has some pretty easy hours. Hence, the whole freelancing paparazzi bit. It pays the bills, Louis. It pays the bills well. And it affords me to luxury to buy what I need for my studies and to practice and improve my skill. I never thought I’d be a paparazzi one day. I loathe paparazzi. I think they’re incredibly rude and incredibly cruel sometimes. But I saw how much DeLuca Pictures was offering for freelance and I just….I had to take it, Lou. I can pay my way with this. I can afford the equipment I need.”

“And you think because you’re a paparazzi, that you’re automatically like them? Because, Harry….you aren’t. Not in the least. Tell me you know that. I have to know that you know that.”

“It’s all the same, isn’t it? Me using you to make money just like they use you to make money. It’s all pretty sick at the end of the day, Lou. That’s why there has to be a separation between us. I’d love to be something with you - rather that’s a friend or something more. But I just don’t see how it’s possible given the positions we’re in. I’d never be okay with you being with someone who uses you. Even if that person is me. Maybe even especially if that person is me.”

A silence fell between them and Harry squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the tears would just roll back inside. Maybe he shouldn’t have said as much as he had. He felt foolish sitting there just waiting for Louis to say something, anything. Finally, after a moment, Louis cleared his throat and asked.

“What if I were to give you permission.”

“What….what do you mean?”

“What if I were to give you permission. It can’t really be using me if I give you permission to do it, can it?”

“I….I don’t know,” Harry’s head was spinning. Louis had made a very good point. Would it really be as horrible if Harry had Louis’ consent? 

“Then I give you my permission. Use me, Harry. Take my pictures. Sell them to the highest bidder. Do whatever the hell you need to do through me to get through uni and get your own studio or gallery or even fucking museum for that matter one day. Do whatever it takes. I’m giving you permission. Use me.”

Louis was staring at him across the table with such genuine intensity and Harry was honestly at a loss for words. He had no idea what to say in response. Finally he manage to ask, “Are….are you sure?”

“For you, yes.”

Harry’s heart pounded within his chest at Louis’ words, “Louis….I don’t know what to say.”

“Nod and smile and tell me you accept my permission for starters. Then tell me what you want from me now that you know it’s safe to ask for it, to have it.”

“I….I accept your permission.”

“Good,” Louis beamed, “Now then, what do you want, Harry? I’m not blind. I know there’s a spark there between us. I can feel sitting across this table. I can feel it even when you’re gone and I’m alone here and I can’t get your stupidly big green eyes out of my head. I don’t think there’s any denying that there’s a spark there. The question is, what do with that? What do you want to do with that?”

Harry worried his lip between his teeth and for once Louis didn’t scold him for doing so. There were a thousand thoughts going through his mind at once, but he managed to answer, “I want the freedom to see what happens.”

Louis’ brow furrowed, “Elaborate, my darling.”

“I….I guess I just mean that I want to take this thing as it comes naturally and I want the freedom to allow myself to let it just happen if it’s meant to happen. No holding back, no putting myself down. I just want the freedom to see if this spark turns into a fire and to enjoy it if it does.”

“Do you have anywhere to be at all?” Louis asked.

Harry shook his head, “No, not really.”

“My song hits radio at midnight and I want you here with me to celebrate. I also want you here with me so we can hang out and get to know each other outside of what we’ve learned just creeping on the internet, if that is okay with you of course. And we’ll take things slow and we’ll learn each other and we’ll get to know one another and we’ll just see what comes. But only if that’s alright with you. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

Louis beamed, “Good. Still can’t believe you creeped on fucking fansite quizzes from 2012, you absolute loser,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“At least I didn’t fucking stalk your Facebook page like some creeper in a Lifetime movie you absolute weirdo.”

“Would it be breaking a rule if I were to ask you to come over here right now and sit on my lap so I can hold you?”

“Probably,” Harry stood happily from his seat, “But then again, you never really give a damn about rules anyway,” he plopped down into Louis’ lap and hummed happily as Louis wrapped his arms around his middle.

“Very true, Curly. We’ll spend the whole day together, order something for delivery and just spend the day taking it as slow as we want and just seeing what comes.”

“Like a one night stand without the sex that decided to last over into the next day.”

Harry yelped as Louis pinched him, “I don’t know if that’s the best or worst analogy I’ve ever heard, Harry. For Christ’s sakes….”

They headed to the living room and Louis told Harry to get comfortable on the couch while he ordered some Chinese for delivery. Harry made himself comfortable on Louis’ sofa, glancing around the living room and taking it all in. Louis living room was soft and comfortable like the rest of the home that Harry had seen. There were more pictures of his family scattered all around and Harry found himself smiling a photo of Louis’ two youngest twin siblings. He could hear Louis placing the order in the kitchen when suddenly a big, fluffy black dog came barreling around the corner and jumped right up on the couch next to Harry. Right away, he started licking his face.

“Hey, boy!” Harry giggled, scratching behind the dog’s ears, “Good boy! Such a good boy!”

“I see you’ve met Clifford,” Louis appeared in the doorway, an amused smile on his face, “He’s kind of a mess. I apologize.”

“No, no,” Harry giggled as Clifford proceeded to lick at his ears, “He’s so sweet.”

“Food should be here in awhile. Do you want to just sit and talk a bit?”

Harry nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

Louis shoved Clifford gently back to the floor and told him to find a “good boy spot.” He tucked his feet up underneath him and turned so that he could face Harry better. Harry felt his heart kicking against his chest. There was an awkwardness about sitting in Louis’ living room alone with hm, about to talk and try to get to know one another better. Everything felt backwards and Harry hoped Louis couldn’t pick up on his nerves.

“So, why photography?” Louis asked so suddenly that Harry almost choked. Okay, they were really doing this then, weren’t they? He shoved his curls back from his face with the palm of his hand as he tried to think over an answer that didn’t sound too enormously cliche. It was always difficult for him to explain his love for photography and why it was such a thing for him. Most people didn’t get it, and Harry would often grow frustrated by not being able to explain it in ways that’d make them get it.

“Oh, um….well. I’ve always like the idea of freezing moments in time,” Harry attempted to explain, twisting one of the silver rings on his fingers as he thought over his words, “My nan gave me one of those disposable cameras once when I was a kid and I remember rushing around to try to capture every moment I possibly could. And once the camera was full, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t take anymore. I honestly cried and cried and my mum took me to have the pictures developed and I wasn’t sad anymore because there were all these moments I’d captured that I could save and hold onto and look back on. I got my first camera not long after that. I think was only like nine? Ten maybe? And my dad gave me his old vintage Olympus camera. He trusted me with it, and I took the best care of it. I still have it actually. It’s on a shelf in my bedroom so I can always remember my roots sort of. This is weird. I’m sorry. I’m being weird,” Harry chuckled humorlessly.

Louis scooted closer across the couch, his knee bumping into Harry’s thigh, “Hey, no. None of that, okay baby? It’s important and special to you and I love hearing about it. I understand, I do. Maybe not to the extent you feel but I get what it’s like to want to capture memories because time just slips through your fingers like sand in an hourglass and you can’t get it back once it’s gone.”

Harry’s heart ached. He turned, tucked his legs underneath him, and reached out a hand to brush the fringe from Louis’ eyes, “I’m not going to tell you that it’ll all be okay, Lou. I know what it’s like to lose a loved one and hearing that over and over again loses it’s meaning. Just know that you don’t have to pretend you’re okay if you’re not. It hurts and it’s always going to hurt but there’s going to come a day where it will hurt a little bit less.”

“Jesus,” Louis blinked, his eyes were swimming as he said, “That’s all I’ve wanted to hear from someone for so long and no one’s ever said it.”

Harry pulled Louis against him, cradling him against his chest. He didn’t know if this was too much too fast or if he was crossing a line, but he knew in that moment he just needed to hold Louis and not let go. 

“Your song meant so much to me, Lou,” Harry said, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ hair, “I want you to know that. It was so filled of hope and joy but there’s this undertone to it too. You just know that the message there isn’t coming from nowhere. You had to feel pain in order to write something so beautifully hopeful about coping with pain. It is such a beautiful song Louis. And I am so thankful that tonight, it’ll reach so many more people.”

Louis tilted his head back to look at Harry. His hand reached up and a finger poked right where Harry’s dimple hid, coaxing it out in a soft smile.

“We’re supposed to be having a fun day together just relaxing and being silly and getting to know each other.”

The doorbell rang with the food delivery, and before Louis hopped up to answer it, Harry squeezed him a little tighter, “Think we just learned more about each other in these last ten minutes than we might ever could have if we’d just kept things light and silly, Lou.”

\--

Louis reluctantly left the comfort of Harry’s arms around his waist to answer the door. He felt light and floaty as he made his way to the front door, still not believing he really did have the pretty pap in his home, on his couch, cuddled up to him as if they’d known each other forever. Louis paid the delivery boy and took the brown paper bags of hot food into the kitchen and laid the carryout boxes out on the kitchen island.

“Baby, come pick out what looks good to you,” Louis called, getting down two plates from a cupboard, “I didn’t really know what to get, so I might have ordered one of everything off the menu. Looks like we have enough for lunch and dinner!”

“Smells delicious, Lou. This is perfect,” Harry wandered over to the spread and took the plate Louis offered him, “You shouldn’t have ordered all this just for us though. I mean, I can eat but I don’t think I’d ever be able to make a dent in all of this.”

“You can take some home to that roommate of yours,” Louis shoveled some rice onto his plate.

“Oh God,” Harry laughed suddenly, a great honking thing that Louis couldn’t help but find contagious even if he didn’t quite get the joke just yet, “Now that is a guy who could make a dent in this. Proper vacuum, that one. Future warning, never, ever leave food around him or you’ll never see it again.”

Look paused in the midst of piling some sweet and sour chicken onto his plate, “I get to meet him sometime?”

Harry reached for the General Tso chicken, “I mean yeah, if you’d like. He’s been putting up with my pining these last few weeks.”

“You’ve been pining?”

Harry pinkened prettily before his eyes flashed with a playful spark, “Well it wasn’t like I was alone in my pining. According to you, you’ve been having feelings for a certain boy with green eyes and brown curls and you apparently felt the need to proclaim that to everyone on radio.”

“Oi,” Louis tossed a grain of white rice into Harry’s curls, “I could have been talking about _anyone_ , Curly. And it most certainly wasn’t you anyway. You’re far too annoying for my taste.”

“Oh, that so?” A grin broke across Harry’s face and Louis knew in that moment, he wanted to make Harry smile that big forever.

“That’s so. Proper menace you are, Curly. Lord knows what I was thinking inviting you into my home, actually.”

“Hey, Lou.”

“Hmm?”

Harry crossed to Louis’ side of the kitchen island and pressed him up against the granite counter, “Shut up,” he said, just before kissing him.

\--

The afternoon went like this -- they ate their lunch curled up together on Louis’ couch watching silly movies on Netflix and teasing each other relentlessly over every little thing they could think of. Harry constantly felt as though his stomach had butterflies and Louis had an uncanny ability to leave him flushed, breathless, and overwhelmed. His abs were aching from laughing so hard, and Harry knew any life spent with Louis would be a life filled with so much laughter and joy. Louis was silly and funny and sharp as a tack and he kept Harry on his toes.

Among the teasing and banter, they also kissed - lazy kisses exploring each other’s mouths, heated kisses with clashing teeth and bitten lips and desperate attempts to see who could make the other moan the most, and sweet kisses, chaste kisses shared in the middle of a scene of a movie or while doodling shapes into each other’s arms. Harry had never felt like this before. Everything was so overwhelming and heated and sexy but also fun and flirtatious and silly and then soft and sweet and gentle as if they were afraid one of them would break the other.

It was close to seven at night when they finally turned off Netflix and Louis suggested they bring out a board game, insisting he could kick Harry’s arse in anything they played. Harry knew better though. He was the king of Scrabble among his entire family, and he knew if anyone’s arse was going to get a kicking, it’d be Louis’. They still had five hours before Louis’ song would be played on the radio and Harry figured that would be the perfect amount of time to hustle Louis in a few games of Scrabble.

“Do you have Scrabble?” Harry asked, raising a brow.

“You like Scrabble, baby?”

Harry nodded, putting on a bashful expression as he ran his toe over the carpeting, “I’m afraid I’m not very good at it though. But it is one of my favorites.”

“Ha, well maybe I’ll be merciful and go easy on you then,” Louis grinned, reaching up to grab the Scrabble box of the shelf of one of his many hall closets. 

They set up the game on the living room floor next to the fire place. Louis let Harry go first and he laid down the word, “Run.”

“Wow, Styles. I’m shaking in my boots over here,” Louis quipped.

Harry merely shrugged, “Told you I wasn’t all that good.”

Their first game lasted about fifteen minutes before Harry finally used up all the better letters he had been hoarding on his little shelf, setting down the word, “OXYPHENBUTAZONE” for 1,778 points.”

“What the absolute fuck!” Louis stared at the board in disbelief, “That’s not even a word!”

“Yes it is,” Harry grinned smugly, “It’s an anti-inflammatory medication used to treat arthritis.”

“H-how? Just….how. How do you even know that word? What….”

“My family has played Scrabble together for years, Lou. We always use a dictionary too, just to make it fair. I’ve had years of practice and know all the best words by heart.”

Louis finally peeled his eyes up off the game board, “You fucking _hustled_ me?”

Harry batted his lashes innocently, “I mean, if you want to win, maybe the word you’re looking for is ‘bamboozled’ or ‘hoodwinked’” Harry dimpled, “You know, just to get a few extra points.”

Louis’ jaw twitched, “You have three seconds.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, “To what?”

“To run.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he hopped up from the floor and darted to the stairs in the entry way. He didn’t know Louis’ house at all but decided the stairs were probably his best option. He took them two at a time with Louis hot on his heels. He skidded down the hallway and into what he assumed was the master bedroom given it’s size and the massive bed. 

“You are so dead,” Louis pointed a finger at him, shoving him back against the mattress.

Harry would be lying if he didn’t feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with a curl of arousal in the pit of his stomach. He moved to hop back up but Louis shoved him back down to the mattress again, blocking him in as he went right for his ribs.

“You are such a little shit!” Louis scolded, tickling mercilessly as Harry yelped and giggled and squealed and tried his best to roll away from Louis’ ruthless tickling.

“I invite you into my home! I serve you lunch! And you swindle me in Scrabble you dirty little liar!”

“You were all big talk about kicking my arse,” Harry managed to say between squeals, “I had to put you in your place somehow!”

“You are such a little shit!” Louis cried, tickling even more.

Harry knew he’d probably regret it, but he just couldn’t help but say, “Takes one to know one.”

“Oi!” Louis’ brows darted up and Harry knew he was in trouble the second Louis’ hands moved to ruck up the hem of his t-shirt. To the left of Harry’s belly button, Louis blew the biggest, loudest, wettest raspberry and Harry absolutely squealed. His hips bucks and Louis’ hands were on in him a heart beat, pressing his hips into the mattress as he continued to blow four more consecutive raspberries all over Harry’s tummy.

“Louis! Louis! _Please!_ ” Harry squealed, trying in vein to squirm away as Louis’ tongue dipped into his belly button.

“That’ll teach you,” Louis pulled back, still resting his hands on Harry’s hips, “Never try to out-shit the king of being a shit, Curly. It will never end up working out for you.”

Harry’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes were blurry with tears and he could almost hear his heart racing as he panted to catch his breath. He could reach out and grab onto Louis, pull him down on top of him and kiss him senseless, but before he could even consider the option in full, Louis was talking again.

“I promised you I’d kick your arse,” Louis’ smirk was devilish, “And unlike you, I don’t ‘bamboozle’ or ‘hoodwink’ people,” with that, Harry found himself being flipped over and a loud smack landed right in the center of his arse, “Maybe it wasn’t a kick, but a spank is just as good. Now c’mon,” Louis reached out a hand, “Up and at ‘em. We’re playing Monopoly next and if you try to cheat at that one, I’ll send you home right then and there without anymore kisses.”

The thought of being sent home with no more kisses was almost unbearable, and those his knees were weak with being so overwhelmed, Harry let Louis pull him up from the bed and he followed him back downstairs, hand in hand.

\--

“I fucking _hate_ Monopoly,” Louis muttered three hours later.

“You chose it,” Harry grinned brightly, dimple on full display.

“Yeah well, I didn’t expect _that_ to happen,” Louis angrily pointed at the entire corner Harry had lined up with four hotels on each slot, “Look at this! I have three bills on my side and you have a whole pile of money so big you could probably swim in it.”

Louis didn’t want to pout, but it just wasn’t fair. Not only was he falling for apparently the king of Scrabble, he was also falling for the king of Monopoly too. It just wasn’t bloody fair.

“Oh, baby,” Harry cooed, “Don’t be a sore loser. C’mere,” he held out his arms and Louis huffed but found himself sinking down between Harry’s legs and being held against Harry’s chest and it’d just been a few fucking hours and already he felt like this was the place he belonged most in the world and that absolutely terrified him, “We don’t have to play any more board games tonight,” Harry said, brushing Louis’ fringe to the side, “It’s almost time for your song to air. How about we put this away and head to the kitchen and I can make us some hot chocolate while we wait?”

The thought of hot chocolate was too good to ever say no too and Louis found himself nodding and helping to put away the Monopoloy board without too much fuss. It shouldn’t be attractive really, the fact that he basically got his arse handed to him in two games he consistently beat all his friends in. But in an odd way, it was. Louis liked seeing Harry’s brow furrow in concentration just before doing some move that would likely destroy any chance Louis ever had of winning within mere seconds. He liked that Harry was sharp and smart and could keep him on his toes like this. It was nice to actually have competition when playing a game unlike with Liam who Louis could easily sweep the floor with.

They finished putting the game away and Louis joined Harry in the kitchen and sat on the island, kicking his feet and watching the boy get out all the things he needed to make homemade hot chocolate with real melted chocolate bar. Louis’ mouth watered as he watched the chocolate melt away in the double boiler Harry had set up on the stove. 

There was a good part of him that was a little disappointed that he hadn’t done more with Harry when he’d had him laid out on his bed. He could have easily crawled on top of him and kissed him, biting along his pretty collar bones and marking him up before moving lower and lower until Harry was practically writhing with it. Louis had to straighten on the island and was thankful Harry’s back was turned so he didn’t see him adjust in his basketball shorts. He knew he couldn’t go too fast. Things were already picking up at lightning speed, but Louis knew they couldn’t rush into sex just yet. This was their first real day spent together, and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin it or make Harry feel uncomfortable in anyway. 

He could wait, he could be patient.

Louis was quite certain he’d wait forever if Harry asked him to.

“Do you have marshmallows?” Harry asked, turning away from the stove.

“Afraid not, baby. I’ll have to pick some up for the next time you hijack my kitchen.”

Harry giggled, dimple digging in again, “Please do. Also, whole milk works best for hot chocolate so you might want to pick up some of that too. For the next time.”

Louis’ tummy curled excited at the prospect of a next time.

“How’s it coming along?” He asked, needing to get his mind off the thought for a moment.

“Pretty good. Chocolate is all melted. I added in some vanilla, a dash of cinnamon, and a shot of chili powder. Just about to stir in the milk and pour it into our mugs. How’s our time?”

Louis checked the clock on the microwave, “I’m going to tune in now, it should be coming on in the next ten minutes.”

Louis grabbed his iPhone and stuck it into the speaker deck on one of the kitchen counters. He flicked around until he found the radio station’s web page and clicked the link for live streaming. The nighttime DJ’s voice was cutting back in from a commercial break.

“Coming up, we have the new single from singer songwriter sensation Louis Tomlinson. This is the first single since his hiatus and we can’t wait to share it with you! This is one of my personal new favorite songs. Here we go. This is Louis Tomlinson with Just Hold On.”

The first notes began and Louis would be lying if he said he wasn’t a ball of excitement and nerves as he shouted to Harry, “This is it! Baby, this is it!”

“I know, I know!” Harry turned off the stove and hurried over to Louis, “C’mere you,” Harry grabbed him to him and together, in the middle of the darkened kitchen at midnight, they danced to Louis’ song on the radio. Louis let Harry spin him and dip him and they kissed while giggling into each other’s mouths, and everything felt so light and so right and so perfect there in that moment.

“I’ve had eight singles hit radio,” Louis stilled them, the final notes fading out from the song, “But this….this was the most special debut. Thank you, Harry. Thank you.”

“Of course, Lou. I’m so, so proud of you.”

Louis flushed, ducking his head as Harry still held him in his arms, “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

“But this is different, Lou. This was your song for her and now it’s being heard by so, so many. And so many people are going to hear this and it’s going to be so uplifting. Think of it. The girl in the club who’s maybe had a shit day at work and her boyfriend’s just dumped her and she feels like she’s hitting walls at every turn. She’ll hear this song and dance and smile and feel so free and so happy in that moment. Think of the guy stuck in traffic after a stressful work day and he’s just trying to get home to his wife and kids, love. He’ll hear this song and it’ll bring a smile to his face and he’s going to feel like in that moment, everything’s going to be okay. This is your impact, Lou. This is what you’re giving them - not just your fans, but everyone. You’re giving them hope, Lou.”

Louis felt Harry’s thumbs on his cheeks wiping away the tears he didn’t know had fallen. 

“Shit, Harry….” Louis’ throat tightened, and words just couldn’t come. He had so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to say. But all he could for the time being was to press his forehead into Harry’s shoulder and let the boy - his boy - rub soft circles into his back.

“I’ve got you,” Harry said, kissing Louis’ hair, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve done this eight times,” Louis said, finally pulling back to meet Harry’s eyes, “And you….you’ve made this the most special. Thank you so, so much, Harry. Thank you….thank you for just being here with me today.”

“I had lots of fun with you, Lou. _You’re_ lots of fun. I don’t even remember the last time I’ve laughed this hard.”

Louis reached up to poke gentle at the dimple, “You should always be laughing, Harry. Every single day.”

Harry blushed, “We should drink our hot chocolate, love and then I probably should be going. I have such an early morning tomorrow and Niall will be worrying if I’m not back soon.”

“Right,” Louis nodded as they sunk down at the kitchen table with their mugs of hot chocolate in their hands, “Early morning.”

“Mmhmm,” Harry took a sip of his hot chocolate, “There’s this pop star set to have an early radio interview with another morning show and I need to be there to snap his picture.”

“Ah,” Louis nodded, smiling over the brim of his own mug, “How unfortunate for you. I have an early radio interview with another morning show and I need to be there to wave my way through the obnoxious paparazzi there to snap my picture.”

“Lou?” Harry asked, his voice small and tentative.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m not….I’m not just one of those obnoxious paparazzi, am I?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Louis set down his mug and reached across the table to grab Harry’s hand in his, “You were never, ever just one of those obnoxious paparazzi. You never were and you never could be. You are my darling, sweet boy. And you’re the thing that makes me not dread pap walks near as much as I used to. Seeing those pretty green eyes and those absolutely ridiculous dimples makes it somewhat worth it. Just a little bit though,” Louis smirked, bringing Harry’s hand to his mouth and biting teasingly at his wrist.

“Walk me to the door?”

“Of course.”

Louis stood from his chair and grabbed Harry’s hand and together they headed back to the entry way. He felt a little pang of sadness in the pit of his stomach that he’d have to be saying goodbye to Harry, but he knew this was for the best. It was far too early in this thing for them to be having sleepovers. And besides, Louis wouldn’t forgive himself for not letting Harry have a good night’s rest before such an early rise.

“I suppose this is goodnight then,” Harry smiled sadly, reaching for his keys in his pocket.

“I’ll see tomorrow at work,” Louis stood on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek.

Harry dimpled, “Tomorrow at work.”

\--

When Louis’ alarm went off the next morning, he didn’t even grumble once. Instead, he flung the sheets off and hurried to his closet to pick out his outfit for the day. He could hardly wait to get to the station, and he felt the butterflies swarm in his tummy as he raked his fingers through his fringe. And when Liam called to tell Louis to get his arse out of bed, he was surprised to hear that Louis was already awake and waiting for him with a yogurt parfait with his name on it.

They drove together to the station and already, the paps were lined up. Louis took a breath and turned to Liam and said, “There’s something you’re going to find out about and you might not like. But just know I’m happy, Li. Very, very fucking happy. So you should be happy too.”

Liam’s brow furrowed, “Lou….what did you do….”

“Not what did I do, what will I do. You’ll see. Just don’t be too pissed at me afterwards.”

Liam opened his mouth to argue but Louis was already hopping out of the Range Rover and heading towards the lines of paparazzi. As he made his way through the flashing lights, he spotted Harry off to the side where he knew the lighting would be the best. Louis had to fight to keep his smile from breaking his face in two as he approached him.

“Hey you.”

“Hey you,” Harry blushed.

“These paparazzi are insane, eh?” Louis jerked a thumb to the dozen or so people swarming to get pictures for the articles about his song hitting the radio stations, “Always looking for a story, eh?”

Harry’s brow furrowed, “What are….”

“Want to give them a story?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Louis’ smile grew even wider, “Let’s give them a story. Right here, right now.”

“And what story might that be?”

“Louis Tomlinson Snogs Papparazzi Boyfriend Senseless Outside of Radio Station?”

Harry’s green eyes widened with scandal and delight, “ _Louis!_ ”

“Get over here,” Louis grabbed Harry by the hem of his sweatshirt, yanking him forward and kissing him right there in front of all the cameras, right among all the flashing lights. Harry whimpered against the kiss and Louis felt his own knees grow weak. 

“ _Ah-hem_ ,” Liam coughed behind them.

“Oops,” Louis smiled sheepishly, “Looks like I’ve got an interview to get to, then another pap walk at the Starbucks after. See you then, darling?”

Harry’s smile was starlight, “Looking forward to it, my love.”

Louis went through the motions of the interview, trying to keep his focus and not let his mind drift too much on the pretty pap - his pretty boyfriend - with the Disney princess eyes and chocolate curls and precious dimples who was waiting for him at the Starbucks a few blocks away. He tried not to think about how he couldn’t wait to kiss him again and again and again and how he was going to invite him to stay over that night and how he was going to absolutely spoil him senseless.

The interview ended and Louis shook hands with the DJs and the producers before following Liam back to the Range Rover. Harry had already left to meet them at Starbucks and Louis fidgeted in his seat with impatience.

“I have a thousand things to say to you right now,” Liam said, voice sharp and scolding as they made their way to Starbucks.

“God, Li….not now. Please not now.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Liam shook his head. He reached a hand over and squeezed Louis’ knee, “I haven’t seen a smile on your face like that in over a year, Lou. I’ll work through the PR stuff, I’ll do the explaining and the talking to the public about it all. I just want you to know, your boy is something special. Hold on to him, okay? And don’t worry about how it’ll appear to the public. I’ll do my best to work on that. You just focus on your song, and your boy. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Louis grabbed for Liam’s hand, giving it a small kiss, “I love you, Li.”

“I love you too, Lou. You know I do. And I’m so happy that you’re so happy. But I swear to god, if you pull something like that again without giving me at least some kind of heads up….”

“Oh lookie,” Louis undid his seatbelt, “We’re here! Looks like you’ll have to finish that threat later. Gotta go!” Louis hopped out of the Range Rover and hurried to the entrance. He could hear Liam chuckling behind him. 

There were a few paps there, and Louis looked for Harry and his heart sunk to his stomach when he didn’t see him among the other flashing lights and cameras. Maybe he’d been stuck in traffic or something had come up. Louis tried to think logically and reasonably, but there was a part of him that wondered if maybe he’d gone too far, pushed Harry too far too fast. 

He opened the door to Starbucks and there sitting by the window was Harry with two venti cups of coffee beside him. Louis’ heart swelled and he tried to will himself not to cry as he made his way over to Harry’s table.

“You weren’t outside with the paps.”

“Nope. Wanted to come inside and have a coffee date with my boyfriend, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay,” Louis sat down across from him and Harry pushed one of the cups forward.

“This a venti vanilla latte?” Louis asked.

“Mmhmm,” Harry smirked, “Apparently there’s a bunch of fan sites with dumb quizzes where creepers can stalk and find out celebrities favorite Starbucks orders.”

“That so, eh?” Louis lifted the cup to his lips.

“Check the order on the side if you don’t believe me.”

Louis rolled his eyes, knowing full well Harry knew he would trust him with anything by now. Still though, he turned the cup to the side to read the label on the order. On the side of the cup, instead of the usual scribbling of his order was the message --

“I love you a latte!” in messy scribble that Louis knew had to be Harry’s.

“Oh my God,” Louis swatted at him from across the table, “You’re such a dork!”

“That’s another thing about me,” Harry smiled happily as Louis took a sip of his coffee, “Not only am I an excellent Scrabble player and a fantastic Monopoly player, but I also have a massive love for puns.”

“Oh no,” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, “What have I gotten myself into?”

Harry bit his lip, “You could always cut your losses.”

Louis grabbed for Harry’s hand and kissed his wrist, “Never. Never, ever.”

Harry pinkened, “Well, good. Also,” he tapped the cup, “That’s not getting ahead of ourselves because it’s not technically me saying it yet. When I do, it’ll be right though. And maybe it’ll be at your concert as I kiss you before you take the stage. Or maybe it’ll be when we’re at home curled up on the couch with Clifford watching Titanic. Or maybe it’ll be when I’m kicking your arse at Scrabble. Whenever it is, however it is, I’ll mean it Lou.”

“I know,” Louis squeezed his hand, feeling the tears prickle his eyes once again, “And I’ll mean it too. Whenever it is, however it is. I’ll mean it too.”

And three weeks later when they were standing at the stove, preparing a stir fry and hip checking each other, sneaking kisses to shoulders and cheeks and pokes to ribs and love handles, when the words fell from Harry’s lips with ease and when Louis said them back with such assuredness, they meant it. 

When Louis took the stage for his first concert in a year and half, selling out the O2 for three nights straight, and Harry said it just before he took the stage, and Louis said it back before a kiss, they meant it. 

And when Harry snapped Louis’ picture while he was still asleep, waking him up with the flash, and Louis rolled on top of him and tickled him as punishment and Harry cried out the words in a desperate appeal for mercy, and when Louis’ hands stilled and he kissed him sweetly morning breath all be damned, they meant it. 

And when Louis’ tour kicked off and they took off on the private plane to the US for the first leg, their hands clasped as the plane ascended, and Louis leaned over and whispered the words into Harry’s ear and Harry whispered them back, they meant it. 

And when they had their first big fight when Harry had to return back to London for uni and Louis was scared of facing his first tour alone without his mum and now without Harry and was picking and starting fights that turned from arguments and spats into a screaming match in their hotel room; that made Harry storm out and slam the door behind him and Louis fall to the carpet and bury his head in his hands before running after him and apologizing as Harry wrapped his arms around him and hugged him close saying the words over and over again into his hair as he pressed kisses there and while Louis sobbed that he was unworthy of them but said them back with such ferocity, they meant it.

And when the only time they saw each other was through grainy webcams and Facetime and when missing each other almost became too much to bear and all they could do was stare at the grainy images on their devices and cry the words to one another over and over again, they meant it.

And a year later when the first half of tour was finishing up and they stopped to Jamaica for a celebration get away to kick off the summer, standing on a beach with their hands clasped, a minister by their side, promising each other to each other, they meant it.

And when Harry finally opened up his own studio in London specializing in family portraits, and Louis kissed him at the grand opening and told him he was so proud of him, muttering the words into his ear as he kissed along his jawline in front of their family and friends, Harry murmuring it back trying to keep his footing, they meant it.

And when Louis was shopping for a silver ring to give to Harry for their forty-second wedding anniversary in an antique shop in New York and lights flashed outside as paparazzi tried desperately to get even just a blurry photo of elusive retired singer, now songwriter and multiple Grammy-award winner, Louis Tomlinson; and someone leaned to their friend and said, “Paparazzi are so despicable, no wonder celebrities hate them all.” and Louis simply turned the rose ring in his hand to the light and said, “That’s not entirely so.” 

“Of course it is,” the girl argued, “A celeb could never like a paparazzi.”

And Louis pushed the ring towards the sales clerk, saying, “I’ll take it. Wrap it up, please,” before he turned back to the two girls, and said, “You don’t know that. A celeb might even love a paparazzi. You just don’t know. Sometimes the best and most powerful loves have the wildest stories.”

And the two girls shared a look that said ‘what is this old man going off about’ and when Louis simply smiled and said, “Don’t ever let preconceived notions of anyone hinder you from finding your greatest love. The deepest and greatest loves are not always the most conventional; and sometimes, it’s the most unconventional of loves that can be the most special, the most enduring, the most strongest of all.”

He meant it. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please like/reblog the tumblr post for this fic which can be found [here](http://wellingtontat.tumblr.com/post/158618360033/cant-start-a-fire-without-a-spark-louis-felt-a) :)


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